


Roses and Violets

by Bibliophile030



Series: Language of Flowers [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, flower symbolism, original lead character, until the next book in the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-02 09:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 85,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21159470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliophile030/pseuds/Bibliophile030
Summary: As far as his superiors tell him, Veritas Ariel had just recovered from an unfortunate accident. They send him to a small outpost in the middle of practically nowhere space to ease him back onto the field. But there is something not quite right at Blood Gulch Outpost. Who came up with Reds and Blues for army names and just what conflict are they fighting?When things don't add up, Ariel has to ask himself, who is he really?





	1. Narcissus in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> So, flower language will be a thing for all the chapters. I'll write the chapter relevant meanings for the most part in the notes at the beginning or end, but if there are specific flower colors, arrangements, et cetera, I'll have the meanings in the chapter itself at the appropriate places. A few chapters will showcase multiple flowers and will follow the scheme as previously stated.
> 
> I have the first book already written and will try to remember posting every week, but the second book will be fighting me for a bit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to your first day at Blood Gulch. And what better way to start things than with a bang?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narcissus - daffodil, jonquil, Lent lily, daffadowndilly  
Meanings: new beginnings, uncertainty, death and rebirth

“Speaking”

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

_ “**Foreign language, translated**”_

* * *

“So, I say to the guy: if you have a ship big enough to carry the tank…why don’t we just put guns on the ship and use that?”

“Hey, rookie?”

A pair of golden visors slide over to the soldier in aqua-colored armor.

“The one in standard blue armor,” he clarified, “shut up already.”

“Oh. Okay…” Said soldier looked down at his feet quietly.

The other rookie stares at the other two Blues, gaze kind of unnerving (not that Tucker or Church will admit to anyone). Unlike his fellow rookie, his armor was a deeper indigo color. “We have names.”

“Oh, and what are they?”

Both stood at attention as they introduced themselves.

“Private Caboose, sirs!” the standard blue one said enthusiastically, stance a bit looser than regulation.

“Corporal Ariel, sirs,” the indigo one saluted.

The soldiers in front of him paused from their admiration.

“Wait…you’re a _corporal?_” 

The indigo soldier cocked his head to the side. “Yes…why?”

The two exchanged a look. After being stuck with each other for several months, visor or not, a guy learned to read body language pretty well in lieu of facial expressions.

“Because, rookie, Tucker and I are both still privates. Why they send a corporal? Unless you’re here to replace Flowers.”

“Which would make _you_ our boss. Technically,” Tucker added.

Ariel blinked. “What happened to Captain Flowers?”

“Rookie, didn’t Command tell you? Flowers is dead. Like, dead since last month.”

“Ooh, ooh, I knew that!” Caboose cheerfully stated.

Shaking his head, Ariel looked back to his seniors. “I suppose that explains it. I was originally assigned to this outpost a bit before then. I guess no one thought to update me en route,” he explained, bewilderment giving way to comprehension

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I, for one, am not taking orders from a fucking _rookie,” _the cobalt one emphasized with an audible sneer. “Name’s Church, by the way. And if you haven’t figured it the fuck out yet, Tucker is the guy in aqua.”

“Teal!” the aforementioned private named Tucker corrected.

“Whatever.”

“Your armor is blue-green,” Ariel supplies helpfully.

“Oh, shut it,” Tucker snapped.

“Sorry,” Ariel apologized immediately.

Tucker hmphed. “Well, at least we got someone who understands how things here work…”

“Anyways, it really doesn’t matter,” Ariel stated to pacify the cobalt soldier who seemed to be in charge of the base, trying to salvage the situation, “because I’m just a lowly technician. It plays a large part in my rank.”

Tucker exclaimed. “So…you’re like a nerd who tested out.”

“I suppose,” Ariel agreed reluctantly.

The aqua soldier slapped him hard on the back. “Naw, don’t sweat it, dude, chicks dig cool and smart guys – like me. Bow chicka bow wow~”

“Okay…” Ariel drew back a little, not exactly comfortable. “By the way, feel free to call me Ari. Ariel makes me sound like a girl.”

“If only,” the indigo soldier definitely heard the other sigh with a mournful note.

* * *

The two finally got tired of Caboose’s rambling, and they basically set up his fellow rookie for a hazing.

Well, at least it didn’t involve the least bit of danger.

Then someone walked up behind them in red armor. Ariel looks back and forth between him and his teammates.

Church didn’t even look back to check when he yelled for the stranger to go inside, mistaking the guy for Caboose.

He didn’t even sound like Caboose. But if these guys didn’t care… Ariel turned slightly back and shrugged before making a shooing motion toward the Blue Base.

“Alright, I think that’s enough staring. Let’s take this bad boy for a spin,” Church declared, gleeful as he rubbed his hands together.

Ariel’s doubts were dismissed as he perked up, gazing at their new set of wheels excitably.

“Alright, Tucker, go ahead and hop in the driver seat.”

“Me?” Tucker looked at his fellow Blue in confusion. “I don’t know how to drive this thing.”

Church seemed surprised as he turned fully toward his fellow private. “Wait, you’re telling me you’re not Armour Certified?”

“I don’t even know how to use the fucking sniper rifle,” Tucker snapped. “Don’t you know to drive it then?”

“No! New guy? And no, I don’t mean Caboose. Aren’t you good with tech, Mr. Technician?”

“Not exactly,” Ariel explains slowly. “My specialty is weapons and armor. I might be able to puzzle out a few things, but it’s part of regulations only certain people can drive tanks; they have modified neural implants to manage the systems, so tanks don’t need multiple operators to work at full capacity.

“Holy crap, who the hell is running this army?!” Church cursed. “I don’t suppose one of you have this special implant?”

“Church, we’re all privates except this guy, and I think he would have told us, already.”

Considering there were only four guys against probably the same number on the other side, Ariel would use the term ‘army’ very loosely.

// “_Sim- Bot- anoth-ay--” _//

Ariel winced, gauntleted hand going to his head.

“Hey! Guys, I just wanted to let you know…the general came by. And he picked up the flag,” Caboose shouted as he ducked out from the entrance of the base.

“Yeah. Okay, whatever, moron! We’re kind of in the middle of talking here, so just get back to it!” Church yelled back. Then continued the conversation about the tank.

Ariel whipped around; his strange headache forgotten.

“Umm, guys, weren’t you just punking him about that?”

A moment of silence passed.

“Aw, shit!”

{A Single Daffodil - misfortune}

* * *

“So…to summarize, the general guy isn’t a real thing as far as any of us are concerned, you gave our flag to an unknown entity who said he was there…to buy elbow grease and headlight fluid?” At that, Caboose nodded. “You do understand what I just explained right?”

“Those two played a mean trick on me, the fake general isn’t coming, and the person who came here isn’t our friend.”

“…Okay, yeah, more or less, I guess. So, guys, what are we going to do? I’m assuming our flag is important…?”

Tucker and Church were completely ignoring the two after tearing into Caboose for giving their flag away. The latter was using his sniper rifle like a fancy spy glass to spot whoever had taken the flag.

“All right, I think I see him…he’s running behind the rocks.”

“A smart son of a bitch, huh?” Tucker pointed out.

It would make him harder to track or target with their weapons.

“Hey, look! He’s wearing red armor! This must be the Red Team’s leader Sarge. That sneaky bastard.”

“Well, it explains how he got past our defenses and stole our flag,” Church concluded. Tucker nodded, although Ariel got the impression the light blue soldier was eyeing the cobalt one’s sniper rifle for some reason.

“Stole?” Caboose interrupted the two. “He just came around the back…where you guys were stationed…”

Both Blues gave their fellow private a look.

“He makes a good point,” Ariel tentatively brought up, defending his fellow newbie. “I saw him. You thought he was Caboose for some reason.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you let the fucker get into the base?” Church growled

Ariel frowned. “You told him he could come inside…”

If he was interpreting things correctly, the other team was colloquially known as the Reds…which would probably make them the Blues if judging by the color of their missing flag.

Church lowered the sniper rifle, leveling its barrel to take aim at the Red fleeing with their flag.

*A series of shots*

Ariel gaped at the result, incredulous. “How did you miss? He moved from the rocks and steadily out into the open in bright red armor?”

Church, definitely annoyed at both his inability to hit anything and the apparent taunts of the Red, had it.

“That’s it! Rookie in regulation blue, stay here and protect the base. Tucker and the other new guy, you’re with me. We’re going to use the teleporter and get over there, cut the guy off at the pass, then take our flag back,” the guy commanded.

“Hey, I don’t know but shouldn’t the other new guy be giving orders? You know, ‘cause he’s a corporal and all.”

Caboose kind of had a point, but Ariel was very content on letting Church do all the ordering. He wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of leading.

“Look…Caboose, right? Just do as I say, shut the fuck up, and stay here. You can’t screw up any worse just by standing here and guarding the place.”

Now Church was just daring fate to jinx them.

* * *

Tucker and Ariel eyed the green light emanating from the teleporter.

“Is it safe to use? Or works?” Ariel asked uneasily.

“Think about it, new guy. Why would Command give us a teleporter if it doesn’t work?”

Tucker countered, “They gave us a tank no one here even knows how to drive. There is no way I’m going in there. Like the new guy said, how do we know it’s safe? We haven’t even tested it.”

“Sure, we tested it. Remember? Works fine.”

Tucker faced Church. “Tested it? We threw rocks through it.”

“Well, they came out the other side, didn’t they?”

“They were hot and covered in black stuff!”

Black stuff? If Ariel had to guess, the teleporter might be giving off excess energy discharge, frying the smaller molecules like organic dust particles into ash during molecular reconstitution, thus things coming out black.

And depending on how advanced or accurate a teleporter was, who was to say only the outside of their armors got a bit smoky?

Now Ariel really didn’t want to enter the teleporter.

“Hey, tech-guy, why don’t you go and see if the teleporter is working right?” Tucker said, gesturing with his gun at him.

Ariel shook his head, backing up a bit. “A teleporter isn’t really a weapon. Unless you teleport something into something else, but let’s not. And I’m barely more than an entry-level technician. If I have to work with unfamiliar machinery, I need time to figure out all the mechanics even for simple devices. A teleporter involves molecular physics and stuff…not exactly the same as running a diagnostic our armor or maintaining a rifle or machine gun.”

“Then what use are you?” a certain short-tempered Blue snarked at him.

Tucker shook his head. “Yeah, let’s _not_ use the piece of tech we have no real idea how to use and can turn _us_ into molecules.”

Church then raised his gun at them.

“Think of it this way: A, you two can go in there and get to the other side of the valley, or B, I can kill one of you, and then the other guy can test his luck.”

* * *

Tucker and Ariel ended up charging through one after the other.

Ariel’s whole body felt…tingly during the whole process.

They ran out from the other teleporter, both covered in soot.

“THREE!” both soldiers shouted, startling the ones in standard red and cobalt.

“Huh, that didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” Ariel mused, puzzled.

“Didn’t hurt? That stung like a mother! It was like a really bad sunburn but immediate instead of all gradual-like!” the other soldier complained, arms shaking a bit from the pain. “Wait, the red guy…freeze, Sarge!”

“This again? Like I said before, I’m not a sergeant, I’m still private,” the unknown Red protested, exasperated with how this whole errand.

“Still a private...holy shit! The teleporter must have taken us back in time!” Tucker concluded.

_Back in time? _Ariel just couldn’t believe this, and after all he heard today… “First of all, there are a ton of reasons why we probably _didn’t _ travel back in time. One, time might be considered the fourth dimension, but the teleporter would have to have a way different set up for that kind of thing I would imagine – this isn’t some cartoon, you know. Two, isn’t Blood Gulch a newish outpost? Sarge probably served somewhere other than here when he first enlisted, and it definitely takes years normally to go up in rank. And three, for a successful temporal displacement, you need something with a bit – or a lot - of thinking power to successfully monitor the journey without losing the traveler in the temporal slipstream, slipspace or the spaces in-between them. You need something like an…A…I…”

His head…! Light stung the inside of his eyes.

His vision warped. For a moment, he wasn’t seeing Blood Gulch.

//_ Cold gray surroundings, starker than the walls back at base._

_A figure in white standing still as bullets fired on him._

_Just before they hit…_

His mind blurred_._

_Someone annoying was talking from just a bit left of the white figure._

_Then- _//

Just like earlier, Ariel went into a kind of short-length fit, mostly images instead of the staticky and probably electronically distorted voice in the last one.

Music suddenly cut into the vision.

Ariel stumbled back.

_What…what the hell?!_ Before he could think more on that…fit (his second one in so many hours-!), the music snapping him from whatever that was got louder.

Church cursed out whatever was playing the random bit of music.

Then a jeep came over the hill (and over them).

“For fuck’s sake-! Run, get out of the way! Ariel, stop pulling a Captain Flowers and move it!”

The air thundered with the sound of dozens of bullets flying through the air every second and the scattering of their shells.

“The jeep followed me back in time,” Tucker insisted.

Didn’t they just went over this? Ariel yelped as bullets pinged into his armor shields

“Just shut the fuck up and run!” Church yelled at them.

They took shelter behind some rocks.

Church’s suggestion was to wait them out until the machine gun ran out of bullets.

Ariel put a hand to his face and gave a moan of despair. “They probably have spare munitions. Plus, the kind of clip installed to the jeep’s gun is meant to last a while without reloading.”

“So, what does that mean for us?” Tucker’s voice went up a few octaves as some bullets pinged off the rockface above of them and then scattered against the soldier’s armor and shields. “We’re sitting ducks out there!”

“That you need to just sit on your fucking heels. This will be a while if the rookie’s right,” Church growled, slamming a fist into the rock next to them.

A while passed. The Reds kept firing into the rocks.

“You know, in hindsight, we should have just brought the tank.”

Church grumbled, “And what fucking good would that have done if no one here knows how to drive it!”

“Well, is hiding behind a rock much better?” Tucker countered.

“You know-!” Church sighed. “Alright, you got me there.”

Ariel leaned against the rock a bit. “Now that I think about it, sometimes they outfit larger vehicles and some ships with basic AI programming if knowingly shipped to personnel without the proper training or equipment.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it probably has some form of tutorial feature. Like a dummy how-to guide for the basic stuff like driving and firing, with the AI handling the logistics a neural implant would normally help manage. If everyone but me and our rival team leader are privates, it would only make sense if the tank had something like that.”

Ariel could feel the sheer irritation being thrown at him in two directions as the last words left his mouth. He shrunk back.

“And you couldn’t have told us this like an hour ago?”

“Or when Church was bitching about how none of us knew how drive it?”

“Tucker. Not. Helping.”

Finally, the gunfire stopped.

“Psst. Hey, I think they’re gone,” Church whispered.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Umm…I don’t know,” the Blue continued to whisper.

Taking the lull at face value, Church ran out to take Red Team’s jeep.

Ariel peeked out from their cover. “Shouldn’t we go after him?”

“…nah, he’s probably right. This is likely a trap,” Tucker pointed out, unconcerned.

_And you’re totally fine with our de facto base leader running out there, into the open, in broad daylight?_

Like Ariel thought and Church voiced aloud earlier, what kind of army was this?

The indigo soldier sighed and opted to at least keep an eye on the surroundings if Church was going to blindly make a run for the jeep. Then he frowned. Was that-?

A concussive boom rattled the ground as the jeep flew into the air. Luckily, Church made it clear of the explosion, scurrying quickly back to them.

“Hey, Church, look, the Reds’ jeep blew up,” the aqua soldier joked.

“You don’t say?” Church gritted out, tone the angry-kind of sarcastic which seemed to be the man’s default in most situations.

All three looked over to see what the hell just took out the jeep.

It was their brand-new tank.

“Hey, look! It’s the rookie!” Church shouted, actually genuinely pleased for once since Ariel arrived. “And he brought the tank! He’s using it to scare off the Reds!”

“Wow, he did! Nice job, rookie!” Tucker complimented.

Ariel nodded in agreement, a small smile on his face.

Church came out from the rocks to the small ledge going along the rocky wall where they had taken shelter. Ariel reluctantly, but out a sense of guilt for letting the guy just run out there when he could have gotten mixed up in the jeep explosion, followed close after his fellow Blue.

Then he heard the tank’s A.I announce, “Firing main cannon,” while said cannon pointed in their direction…specifically, at Church…

“Uh oh,” the other Blues chorused.

“Oh, son of a bitc…”

Ariel very much agreed. He also would have pulled both of them back in a vain attempt to ward off a direct hit, but his legs felt like frozen jelly as he watched in surreal slow-motion as the blast headed right for them.

Pain lanced several points of his body even as the force threw him back against the rock wall. His helmet readings showed shielding down (not surprising their armor’s shields weren’t that good in the first place) and several breaches in the armor itself.

Breaches Ariel could very much feel as the taste of copper filled his mouth and his entire body felt like a giant thing of burning agony. His vision flickered from shock.

“Church! Ariel! Speak to me! Are you okay?”

_Church took a direct hit, and I got nailed by the residual force of the explosion not to mention shrapnel! Why would either of us be okay? _Ariel wanted to laugh. He didn’t even try to ask if any of the teams have a doctor or even a decent medic in place.

He could feel the sharp shards dig deeper into armor, bodysuit, and skin.

_Legs took minimal damage. Lower torso bleeding heavily. Something like ice piercing his chest. An unnatural chill seeping into skin and bone…_

“Tucker…Tucker…I don’t think I’m going to make it…” rasped Church from where he laid in a puddle of crimson-bright blood.

“Sa-same,” Ariel coughed. “Not unless you have a medical doctorate secretly lying in your room. And surgery equipment. What a way to start one’s tour of duty, huh?”

Church moaned, “Tucker…Tucker, I wanted to tell you… I always hated you. I hated you the most.”

Church…was Church to the end. Ariel only lingered a bit longer.

“Well…*hack, hack* I like to say unlike _some_ people, I thought you guys were pretty decent…overall,” Ariel remarked before falling into another coughing fit, vision darkening, hearing already cutting out.

“No, rookie, hang on-!”

* * *

His whole body felt like a stampede of wildebeest ran over it. That’s how Ariel knew he was alive…somehow.

Once his vision stopped whirling, and it looked like no one would try and sneak up on him for a little while, he removed his armor and took stock of where he definitely felt hot metal slice through skin and muscle before lodging into bone.

His armor and bodysuit showed the damage, but the skin was intact. There were scars, but they looked years-old with only pale patches and nearly invisible lines.

“Okay…?” Looking around, he found several bloodied pieces of metal, some nauseating crusted with dried blood up several centimeters. Some of those pieces were completely covered in the dark red stuff, making Ariel consider how they should have gone through armor and flesh and came out the other side.

His thoughts spiraled on exactly what it would have looked like.

// _Blood. Always so much damn blood. _

_These idiots…_

_A distorted voice, heard as if through water._

_“How many times does this make it? I told you, use that goddamn brain of yours and stay out of my-!”_

_A different person laid sprawled on the operating table._

_Skin blackened in places. Burns. _

_Places where metal carved through metal and struck the vulnerable flesh underneath it all._

_Hands clenching slightly around the instrument as they reached a hand toward the- _//

Ariel didn’t even register what he had done until his arm leg was very noticeably screaming in pain.

Probably because he took his standard-issued combat knife and plunged it into his leg in a subconscious effort to wake the fuck up from whatever the hell these visions were.

_Really, what is going on? Once is an accident, twice is coincidence, but three times-?!_

Ariel wasn’t going to admit it any time soon, but he thought there might be something seriously wrong with his head. PTSD? Schizophrenia? Delusions? Outright madness?

What if he got a vision at the wrong time? Like while he was under gunfire or something? Would he zone out and never come out the next time?

Then he heard a familiar set of voices.

He scrambled back into his armor, hastily binding his new wound with a scrap from his bodysuit (it was already torn up).

He clambered down and spotted his teammates running over to the Red Base. He chased after them.

“Guys?”

Startled, the two swung their weapons right at him. Ariel threw up his hands.

“Whoa, whoa! It’s me!”

“Ariel? You’re back! And not like Church who is now a gay-robot-ghost,” Caboose gushed.

“…I’m sorry?”

“Ignore him,” Tucker said between fits of suppressed laughter. “So, if Church came back as a ghost…does that make you a zombie, Ari?”

“…” _How long was I out? Am I really awake?_

“Don’t be silly, Tucker,” Caboose stated. “Obviously, Ari is some sort of super organism with healing powers, and they put him a death-like state to efficiently help him.”

“…?!”

Did Caboose talk like this before? Ariel vaguely thought back to the (less than quiet or pleasant) trip planet-side. _No, no he didn’t._ Sure, the guy sounded a bit dim-witted, but this was a bit much.

“I don’t think that’s the case…?” Ariel tentatively answered. “It could be the armor itself. Standard Mk. Vs have biofoam injectors to counteract general forms of physical trauma, maybe mine came equipped with something more powerful. And probably pretty experimental. I haven’t had the chance to get an in-deep assessment of my armor before I had to put it on and ship out to here.”

“So…Command turned you into some sort of guinea pig without you knowing,” Tucker extrapolated. “Wait, they can do that?”

“Why not?” Ariel answered, distractedly. He was beginning to get upset and a bit afraid for himself and their team as what happened finally hit him.

At this rate, would his team even see the end of the day? They already lost one man because of their superiors’ neglect, and war tended to kill off people in droves. If the Red Team wasn’t as incompetent as Ariel had seen so far, they probably would have finished their team off pretty easily.

Tucker took note of the now very worried corporal and flailed for a distraction.

“Look, man, I’m sure Command knows what they’re doing. I, mean, the teleporters didn’t kill us, right? Sure, we got a bit Kentucky fried, but we survived. Hey, since you’ve been out this whole time, why don’t I fill you in; you’re probably confused with the whole gay-ghost-robot thing. Okay, Ari, here’s what’s going on: Command hired this guy Texas, a Freelancer, to help us out, but it turns out he is a she and is Church’s ex-girlfriend. Who’s also a bitch who killed Church’s last Blue Team except for him on Sidewinder. Then she used Caboose as target practice…probably because he called her a slut while she was standing behind him,” Tucker explained.

“For the record, I didn’t know he was there!”

“_She_,” Tucker corrected. “Unless you want to be target practice, _again?_”

Caboose mumbled a quiet, “No.”

The familiar cadence of his fellow Blues quibbling nonsensically did wonders to steady Ariel from his churning thoughts.

“Moving on, we found out about her real gender because Church came back as a ghost to warn us not to let her get involved then only explained the whole killer girlfriend thing after she left to take the flag back and take _out_ the Reds. But then the Reds captured her, so he wants us to distract them while he goes and gets her back.”

The word ‘Freelancer’ floated murkily in his head. It sounded…familiar. And not in the casual way. More like…

Ariel winced (not that anyone could see), and struggled against the beginning of another fit, using Tucker’s voice to anchor him. He quietly sighed as the sensation of _pain, regret, loss_ faded. Whatever was wrong with him, Ariel had a hunch these Freelancers had something to do with it.

Then Tucker ended his summary by explaining how the robot-thing Caboose mentioned was due to Texas apparently having a crazy A.I. in her head, making her a scarier bitch than she already was.

AIs.

Didn’t one of his fits started after he thought about AIs and time travel?

Exactly how were these things related?

Or maybe his fits were completely random, and he was reaching for explanations...

Okay, his problems and apparently malevolent software aside, Ariel would like to contest the whole ghost-thing, but the two Blues appeared adamant on the matter.

_And it’s not like they listened before._

In the end, his teammates did whatever the fuck they wanted, damn the consequences or reason. And who was he contend with the flow of things, he barely had a handle on his own problems?

Ariel took a moment to take note of his thoughts. It felt like the longer he stayed here, the worse his language would get.

_Okay, Ari, enough whining and woe be me, we apparently have a mission at hand._

Since his armor was still black from earlier, Ariel easily joined the other two in the diversion as fake special-ops soldiers.

Ariel turned his radio on, syncing up to the same frequency as Tucker’s.

“He’s telling us to keep moving but stay sharp and steady,” Ariel translated for his teammates. “…Caboose?”

Ariel looked over his shoulder and saw the Blue by the other rock and completely in view of the Reds.

“Caboose,” Tucker hissed, “get behind the rock. They can still see you.”

“They can’t see me. I can’t see them.”

Ariel sighed then ran over, ducking low just in case. He stood next to his fellow rookie and physically turned him.

“Oh.”

“Come on.” Ariel grabbed his arm and dragged the man-child _behind_ the rock. “Am I your minder or something?”

“Do you mind me?” Caboose asked.

“Yes.”

“Harsh. Like, no hesitation there, dude.” Although, Tucker had to give it to Ariel, he was way better at tolerating Caboose’s antics than the rest of them. Easily better tempered than Church who took offense at life.

Maybe it was that thing about opposites or some shit. Tucker quickly picked up on how Ariel wasn’t much of a talker. Sure, it was hard to get the rookie to shut up when he went on a roll about explaining stuff, but he didn’t seem very eager to initiate a conversation, unlike Caboose who could talk about anything. Speaking of whom…

Caboose, not understanding sarcasm or the meaning of a deadpan, looked ecstatic. “Then you are my minder!”

Ariel sighed. “I suppose so. Anyways, we should be careful. Who knows when they’ll start shooting at us? Just keep moving and stay sharp. We can’t afford to be surprised again.”

“Or else we’ll end up cowering behind a bunch of rocks like last time,” Tucker finished the statement.

“But aren’t we hiding behind rocks right now?”

“Shut up, Caboose. We’re not hiding right now, we’re just being cautious like Ari said, drawing their attention as we move closer and closer to their base. Just, you know, don’t actually go into their base or you’re screwed like Texas was,” Tucker advised. “If they don’t outright execute you for being a ‘dirty Blue’, of course.”

“Oh, okay.”

Luck must finally have given pity on them because the Reds still haven’t fired on them.

Right now, Caboose for some reason had the sniper rifle.

“What are you doing?”

“I see Tex. One of the Reds has her. I’m going to shoot him and kill him and free Tex. Then Church will forgive me for killing him, and we will be best friends forever,” Caboose stated like it was obvious.

Tucker and Ariel stared at him.

“The fuck he just say?” Tucker couldn’t help exclaiming.

Ariel chose to address the matter at hand. “Why would one of the Reds have Tex outside the base, especially when they know we’re out here, too?”

Caboose didn’t look like he was going to move the sight off of his target anytime soon.

“I don’t think rescuing Church’s _ex_-girlfriend will be enough for the whole team-killing thing… I haven’t even really forgiven you for the whole near-death scare, either.”

Tucker added, “Yeah, man, haven’t you been paying attention? Plus, Church is an asshole about 100% of the time. He hates me, why would he suddenly like you after you killed him and turned him into a spirit cursed to wander this shitty plane of existence? Do you really believe any of what you just said?”

“Ohoho, we’re going to be _best_ friends,” chortled their very deluded teammate.

Right after Caboose fired, he froze.

“Caboose? Oi, what happened? Did you get him?”

“Tucker did it!”

“What?!”

Ariel grabbed the sniper rifle. “I see why you guys think he is a ghost. And I guess he must have possessed either Sarge or the Red rookie…whom you shot while Church _was still in their body_.”

“Didn’t you hear me? Tucker did it,” Caboose continued to assert despite all the evidence in the contrary. Tucker was far from amused or convinced of his apparent guilt.

“Dude, we all know how much of a team-killing fucktard you are.”

“Tucker…” Ariel sighed then shook his head_._ “Let’s just hope since Church doesn’t seem to be affected, he didn’t hook up to the guy’s neural pain transmitters. ‘Cause, shot to the head? If the guy’s lucky, the distance plus the fact Caboose has the wrong type of bullets loaded into the sniper (_Are those even bullets_?) just resulted in shock and maybe a bit of head trauma from whatever force his shields couldn’t absorb in time. That and the angle of the shot.”

“Oh…why?”

“The bullet looks like it didn’t hit him directly. Our MJOLNIR armors carry biofoam injectors like I mentioned earlier, but they don’t really work on extensive damage. Mild head injuries should be okay, though. He should be recovering shortly if it only glanced or grazed him instead of a through-and-through shot.”

“Wow, you really do know your stuff, tech-guy,” Tucker remarked. “Hey can I…”

“If you say, 'hold the sniper rifle', after you told me earlier today you don’t know how to use it, then no.” Ariel made and X sign with his arms, putting the rifle down behind him. “For all I know, when you try using the scope, you’ll accidentally will fire on one of our own.”

“Hey, I’m not a team-killing fucktard like _some_ people!”

“Hey!” Caboose protested, crossing his own arms. “I told you, it was a certain _other_ Blue who did it. Who may or may not look like me but is really Tucker! In disguise!”

“Disguise?” Tucker sputtered. “I don’t even have the sniper rifle!”

Ariel shook his head and turned on his radio. “Texas? This is Corporal Ariel. While the Reds are panicking over their CO, you might as well make your way back here. I’m sure Church will be back…from wherever he goes.”

[You think I stayed? I’m not an idiot]

He could interpret the last part the Freelancer deliberately left unsaid but heard all the same.

Didn’t Caboose rattle on about some sort of invisibility trick? Because, Ariel couldn’t see the Freelancer anywhere now that he thought about it. He turned back to Caboose and Tucker who were still glaring at each other.

* * *

Eventually, they regrouped back to base with Texas in tow.

Ariel walked over to the top of the base, informing the rest of the guys, “I’m going to see if I can lower the power on the teleporter, so it will stop trying to fry anyone using it.”

“Fine, not like any of us fucking care!” their resident ghost screamed back, all eyes only for Texas.

Tucker contended, “I kind of do, so go right on ahead!”

“If you need me, just use the radio.” Ariel turned away from them, sigh inaudible as he turned off the speakers for a moment.

For the first time since he arrived here, Ariel finally took had a chance to grab his toolkit, including a basic tech scanner.

Hooking it up to his visor HUD, Ariel scrolled through the list of readings.

“Hmm, the power output was set too high. A transporter basically breaks up people into molecules – vaporizing them, essentially – then speeds up the molecule over to the other transportation pad which receives the template data and reconstructs the molecular bonds. The problem is, the reentry provides too much energy to build back up the bonds, and the excess is causing incineration of any excess molecules not explicitly included in the blueprints. Luckily, there are a few fail safes, so actual body parts and expensive equipment isn’t lost in transmission.”

[Wow, really?]

Ariel figured entertaining Caboose for a while might minimize the chances of anymore ‘incidents’. It had an added benefit of earning him brownie points with Church and Tucker.

“By the way, why didn’t you guys bury Church’s body? I’m assuming there was some lag time between Command arranging things with Texas and her actual arrival.”

[Oh yeah, we left Church’s body up there]

“I know. I almost died right next to him, so when I recovered, it was _right_ there. So…the burial?”

[Umm, well, Tucker said we should just leave it since dead body stinks, and yeah, we don’t have any shovels, either]

Ariel paused. “We don’t have any shovels?”

[Yeah, Tucker told me! The Reds took them ages ago]

The technician shook his head. “You know, if Church wasn’t particularly religious, you could have burned the body. I know we have some incendiary devices. A few grenades hooked up in the right places would work. Even a little bit of tinder and a torch, and we could get a pretty good bonfire going out here.

Or, I do have some larger tools that came with the tank. I could probably jury-rig a shove of sorts That, or we can go the primitive Earth way and attach a flat piece of rock to some sort of big stick or metal pole. Voila, a shovel!”

[You _are_ really smart! Smarter than even me! But not as smart as Church who is my best friend]

“…thanks? Actually, there should be something we can use to seal and preserve his body in the infirmary. Then we can just get Command to ship it home.”

[Oh, we didn’t think of that]

A few minutes passed.

[Oh, oh, oh!]

Ariel sighed. “Yes, Caboose?”

[Are you psychic?]

_What… _“No, why?”

[Well, because Tucker and Church were yelling, and Church said the same thing you did about the whole burying his body or shipping it back home thing]

“Umm, Caboose? That’s not being psychic, that’s being practical. And the one thing Church is good at is being practical.” _Brutally so._

Aiming a weapon at your teammates was still messed up, but it got the point across fast.

There was silence for a while. Ariel should probably feel relieved he didn’t have Caboose yammering through his earpiece, but some sort of instinct born of this whole fucked up mess of team-killing and reckless teammates had him distrust it.

He finished up quickly then headed over to the where he thought he saw the tank sitting upside-down after he revived. He found Texas working on a right-side-up vehicle (how did she manage that…whatever, nothing in Blood Gulch made sense), and his two living teammates up on the cliff where Church’s body laid.

“Where’s Church?” he asked.

“Church? Him? You know doing…ghost stuff,” Tucker rambled.

“Ghost stuff,” Ariel reiterated.

“Yeah, well, he _is _a ghost.”

“Right.”

Still not convinced. What were his teammates up to?

“Hey man, you saw him being all see-through and white and shit. How does that not scream ghost?” Tucker disputed.

Ariel rolled his eyes behind the visor. He recognized the deflection but played along. “I’m a man of science, even if only a lowly technician. I’d sooner believe Church is some sort of virtual imprint of the soldier than a disembodied soul lingering after his body’s expiration.”

“Psst! Tucker, what did Ari just say?” Caboose (loudly) whispered to the aqua man.

“He thinks you’re right about Church being a gay robot.”

“Again, still here, and still his ex-_girl_friend,” Texas called up from where she was under the tank.

“Hey, I have no problems if the guy is bi!”

The Freelancer gave a look at the chortling private then decided to let the matter go. It wasn’t her problem what Church’s teammates thought of him. He was her _ex_, after all (a part of her balked, another part wanted to shake Church and yell at him, to make him see the truth like CT showed her).

“Hey, if you’re a technician, then get over here. At least I can trust you to hand me tools, right?” Texas called up to them.

Ariel nodded his head, jumping down from the ledge. “Of course, no problem, Texas.”

Ariel did not miss how Tucker avoided addressing their ‘ghost’s’ whereabouts. A conspiracy if he ever heard one.

[Hey, Ariel?]

“Yeah?”

[You were with Caboo- I mean, O’ Malley on the ride to our base, right?]

Right, Caboose for some odd reason wants to call himself O’ Malley now during the short period he was gone.

“Yes? Why?”

[Did he seem to know bigger words like ‘rectified’ and ‘verification’?]

“No,” Ariel confirmed, mulling over the matter as he greased a few of the mechanisms for Texas. The Freelancer was alright for being a ‘coldhearted bitch’ as Tucker would say…preferably out of hearing, sight, and maybe a good dozen meter away for good measure from said Freelancer.

“And…O’ Malley? He told me his whole life story on our way here, including how his full name is Michael J. Caboose. I wonder how’d he come up with a name like O’ Malley?”

[Yeah…yeah, that’s what I thought]

There was the tell-tale sound of static as Tucker signed off the comms.

Ariel frowned. Pulling up the options in his helmet tech, he found a feature increase the sensitivity of the armor’s mics.

Tucker wasn’t kidding about there being something a bit off about the other rookie_._ When did Caboose’s language get so professional?

He stayed back with Tucker and Caboose as Texas drove off with the tank.

They watched as she assaulted Red Base…until something bright blue soared in an impossible arc through the air.

A plasma grenade lodged itself through the canopy of the tank and onto Texas.

Then blew up a few scant seconds later.

Ariel ran over to the wreckage and found the copper armored silent soldier he noticed hanging with the other Reds. Seeing him struggling, Ariel dismissed his first instinct to grab his holstered weapon and helped him haul the prone body from the wreckage of the scorched tank canopy.

“**Tejas,**” bemoaned what probably was Church, the soldier cradling the body.

Running a critical eye over the torn armor, Ariel shook his head. The damage was extensive (there was something a bit off about the blood, but any suspicious were lost in the wake of the unexplainable wave of fear and despair descending on him). Texas would need extensive surgery, blood donations, and a ton of other medical stuff Ariel was pretty sure they didn’t have or weren’t able to perform without an onsite doctor. And by onsite, as in right here and now.

Ariel paused that thought.

…where did he learn to make snap prognoses like that?

Wait, shelve that. Upset teammate and his dying ex, first.

“…I’m sorry, Church.”

If he had even some aspirin, it could at least give her some relief from the undoubtedly horrible pain her body must be feeling.

This only seem to make Church even more melancholic.

Only a few minutes later, Texas died, her body settling in a way too still for there to be any life in her anymore.

Ariel walked up to Church’s side and put a hand on his shoulder.

Church immediately shoved him away.

“Don’t touch me!”

Ariel sighed and turned to face his spectating teammates. “Ca- O’ Malley, Tucker, give me a hand. We got two bodies to haul and two graves to dig without shovels.”


	2. Devil's Helmet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aconitum or aconite - devil's helmet, monkshood, wolf's bane, leopard's bane, mousebane, women's bane, queen of poisons, blue rocket  
Meaning: misanthropy, beware, be cautious, a deadly foe is near

“Speaking”

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects* 

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

_“**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

“I’m not your mother, so stop tattling to me whenever one of you have a problem with the other guy.”

On this fine sunny day in the boxed canyon of Blood Gulch Outpost, the Blues were milling out in front of their base, Ariel taking his turn at watch from the rooftop. Although, he was more distracted with his teammates’ conversation below than on the lookout any impending enemy attack.

“But, Church, I really do think Caboose is crazy. He keeps threatening me and using a really scary voice,” Tucker defended himself.

Like several times in the past couple of months, Tucker tried to convince Church to do something about their strange teammate. And like all those other times, Church really didn’t care.

“No, I didn’t,” Caboose chirped.

“Oh…” Tucker turned to his fellow Blue, tone flat, “so, you didn’t mean it when you said you’re going to cut off my head and give it to Church as a birthday present?”

Ariel did a double-take, eying the Blue down below with increasing concern.

“You know, I thinking you’re taking my words a little out of context,” Caboose tittered unconvincingly.

Tucker stared at the other Blue, probably giving him a WTF face beneath his visor. “Context? What context? Ari, back me up.”

Ariel shook his head then called down, “I have to admit, Caboose is acting strange…although the death threat thing is news to me. Maybe we should give him the benefit of doubt? Maybe see a professional about any underlying psychological concerns?”

“What are you, our team’s devil’s advocate?”

Church chose to ignore the issue, continuing his earlier point. “Look guys, this whole competing for my attention thing? It got to stop. I thought we already discussed this-”

“Ahem. Excuse me?” A person had seemingly walked up to the group while they were in the middle of arguing. A person in purple armor of all things.

_Wow, we really are bad at this whole perceptive-thing._

“Look, pal, I’m kind of in the middle of something.” Church turned back to the Blues. “I thought we already established how I don’t like _either _one of you. In fact, I hate both of you. I even told Tucker this while I was dying. In fact, our team know-it-all up there is probably the one I dislike the least.”

“Thanks.” Ariel looked back down to the stranger. “Also…the guy in purple armor?”

“What guy in purple armor?”

“Hi, there,” the new guy greeted.

Caboose gushed, “He looks just like Ari! Except not as blue!”

“That’s because my armor is indigo, which is a fancy way of saying blue-violet.”

“You two, shut up. Yeah, hello. Who the hell are you?”

The purple guy didn’t look all too sure against Church’s abrasive personality. But Ariel gave the guy credit when he soldiered on. “Yes, well, my name is DuFresne. Are you Private Tucker?” The guy looked like he hoped he was wrong.

“No, I am not Private Tucker. Name’s Church. That guy, he’s Private Tucker.”

“Yo!” Tucker greeted with a mock salute. 

“This guy in regulation blue is Caboose…or O’ Malley or whatever the hell he calls himself on a given day. And the one on top of the base in indigo? He’s Ariel, our team’s technician, and probably the closest thing we have to a base doctor out here.”

Turned out, Ariel was the only member of Blue Team with any sort of medical expertise. Sure, the others knew basic wound dressing, but stitches, running intravenous lines, and proper medicine administration weren’t exactly universally learned skills here in Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha.

Ariel was having some serious second-thoughts about his memories, but at least he apparently knew enough about medicine and plants to deal with their day-to-day medical needs (Caboose was very clumsy, always breaking stuff or overjudging his monstrous strength. That and Tucker did in fact seem to run into a lot of injury-inducing accidents around the base…they really should deal with the O’ Malley problem if things start to escalate).

“Well, that’s a coincidence. I received your call from Blue Command for a medic.”

All four Blues eyed the man in varying degrees of deadpan to unimpressed.

“Medic? That was like three months ago.”

“Caboose has a point,” Ariel called down. “After all this time, you might as well send a mortician.”

Tucker huffed, “Yeah, they’re right. What took you this long? Did you crawl all the way here?”

Ariel shook his head. _I guess we know exactly the value of our men here in Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha._

“I came as quickly as I could. Where’ the patient?”

_Look like another bright lightbulb for the outpost,_ Ariel thought to himself. Did the guy not get the very obvious hints they gave him?

“Yeah, she’s about fifty feet behind you…and six feet down,” Church stated in false solemnity, pointing out the two graves.

“Oh. Sorry about your loss,” the medic apologized belatedly.

And his team showed very much how remorseful they were. I.e., not very. Although, Ariel had to give Caboose some leniency considering Texas did apparently try to take out her (understandable but) excessive anger on him via firearms practice.

Then the medic pointed out the other grave, in which case Church just stated the truth: he was in that one.

DuFresne didn’t sound like he believed him.

Ariel wondered why the other two were letting Caboose handle the dead-not-dead Church explanation. He had come down since yelling from the top of the base was getting old, plus he remembered it was standard operating procedure for all soldiers to be checked over by a visiting medic.

“Yeah, it took us six weeks to turn off his Spanish setting.”

“**_Not entirely off, you moron_.**”

Tucker groaned. “Great…Ari?”

“I think he said he’s unimpressed with the repair job.”

“Think, I thought you spoke Spanish!”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes – just barely. “No, I told you guys I know a bit of Latin, enough to get the general gist of whatever he’s saying.”

“What? Why would you learn a useless dead language?”

“…I just do…? Again, I think he’s actually just toggling the Spanish setting on-and-off again by mistake. Or he’s messing with us. It’s not like I erased the Spanish language option entirely. Then again, robotics isn’t really my thing like it is Sarge’s. Or the technical capabilities of ‘ghosts’.”

“Well, you can go to Red Base and ask nicely if their insane leader he would fix the robot we stole from them.”

Ariel didn’t deign the other Blue with a response.

He gradually tuned out of the conversation for a bit (something he could do without being a bionic man) then came back in when he heard the medic say, “Okay then. Alright, then I’ll just check you three out, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Tucker responded immediately, “Whoa, hold on man. Check us out? Is this where I have to turn my head and cough?”

“No, just going to check your vitals.”

“Can’t we do that ourselves? Our helmets come with a basic BioScan or BioCom, after all. A type of medical scanner, Caboose,” Ariel answered before the regulation blue soldier could ask.

“Wait, they do?” _They don’t know that?_ Didn’t they get some sort of tutorial during Basic? Or even a manual on how the MJOLNIR worked?

Tucker was right, was Command just using them as guinea pigs or something? A demonstration on what soldiers should _not_ be.

Or was it possible this whole thing was some sort of big setup, like in those old reality shows? Were they going to have someone jump out and say “Psyche!”?

“It’s so we can look after each other during battle,” Ariel explained.

“Yes, your armors do have that function, but my scanner is probably more advanced.”

Ariel eyed the thing. It didn’t really look like a scanner to be honest. It did remind him of something, but the mental leap spun just out of reach.

“Fair enough.” As long as it didn’t cause them trouble, he would leave those suspicions be.

Caboose looked over to Tucker and declared, “I bet I have better vitals than you. By the way, what’s a vital?”

“Vitals refer to your general health stats, like heartrate, blood pressure, body temperature…you know, the basics. But DuFresne has a point, his scanner is probably a bit more sophisticated than our tech.”

“Ariel, you know you don’t have to answer Caboose, right?” Church reminded him.

Ariel shrugged in response. He didn’t really mind even if Caboose had some really inane questions sometimes. But all questions deserve some sort of response. And while he didn’t really like making idle chatter, he made exceptions for the other Blue.

Maybe because Caboose reminded him of a puppy, being so innocent (except for his O’ Malley moments) and in need of help and support. Ariel would admit, he really couldn’t seem shake off the desire to nurture and aid people even if it would be a bad idea otherwise.

“Oh, and what you said at the end there? On your way? Yeah, I don’t think so, bud. Aren’t you here to join our team?”

“No. I was sent to help out with Tex then assist out in the canyon as needed,” DuFresne responded promptly.

Church wasn’t too impressed, but from what Ariel was hearing, the medic was a _neutral_ medic, employed by both armies to take care of their wounded.

_Explains the purple armor, _Ariel snorted to himself. Red and blue made purple, after all.

Plus, the guy was a pacifist on top of being one of the few protestors against the war.

Seriously, did the guy want to be swept up as some degraded second-class citizen of the Covenant? If the alien hegemony didn’t outright glass them all to death, first.

Although, Ariel was still not sure how the Great War and the civil war between the Reds and Blues related to one another. Was the other group Innies or something? They sure didn’t act like it, though.

His brain itched and burned then his thoughts…fizzled.

What was he thinking about?

Movement from outside their base on the motion trackers (wait, did his teammates know about the motion tracking map? …or the motion sensors in their armor?) caught his eye.

“Err, guys? You might want to head for cov-”

Just as Church was giving the purple guy some advice, the Reds initiated a sneak attack.

“Great job on keeping watch, Ariel!”

_Sure. It’s not like I was called down for a health exam_, Ariel grumbled to himself, plastering himself against some nearby rocks as bullets skidded and deflected on his shields.

Tucker and Church were arguing. Church wanted to send Tucker out over to Caboose to back the guy up. It made sense to expand their range of fire. Church just didn’t know how to go about explaining it.

Seeing how Tucker did not want to run out there and eat a machine gun sandwich, Ariel grabbed his assault rifle.

*Bang, bang, bang, bang!*

Eight bullets fell to the ground between the two sides.

All three men behind their rock stare at the technician.

“You shot the bullets…_out of the air._”

Ariel lowered his gun. “Weapon specialist,” he shrugged as if that explained everything.

“_Out. Of. The. Freaking. Air. _Dude, there’s knowing how to build a gun, handle one…and doing a crazy anime-thing and shoot freaking bullets while they’re being fired!” Tucker yelled.

“Oh…well…now do you trust Church and I to watch your back while you run over to Caboose?”

“Church, maybe you should give the smarter rookie your sniper rifle. He probably can hit something, unlike you,” Tucker evaded.

“No. Now get over there and help Caboose.”

Ariel threw up his hands in frustration. Then took a deep breath. “How about _I _go and help Caboose?”

“Fine.” Church went to glare at their forgotten guest. “Doc, why don’t you go with him?”

“My name isn’t Doc, it’s DuFresne.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of hard to remember. So, from now on, I’m calling you Doc.”

“I’m not really comfortable with any of you referring me as such,” DuFresne protested. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a medic.”

“What’s the difference?”

Ariel explained, “Experience and certifications. Doctors have formal education and training in their field. Medics are basically stop gap solutions; they know a bit more than the average soldier about first aid and field medicine. They’re responsible for stabilizing wounds and providing relief to the dying until A) an actual doctor is available or B) the patient dies. Think nurse but not as helpful since a lot of nurses handle some of the less specialized and demanding work of doctors, too.”

“So, what you’re telling me…this guy is basically useless.”

“Well, this guy is more or less right. Basically, doctors heal, but medics just make people comfortable…while they die,” DuFresne clarified, not exactly helping his impression on the Blues.

“…I think I like Ariel’s version better. At least his version gave a fifty-fifty chance. But I think I learned something: don’t get shot if this guy is our only hope,” Tucker enlightened unnecessarily. “Seriously, I think Ariel can probably do better. I mean, the guy seems to know a bit about medicine weirdly enough.”

“Technically, I’m an amateur botanist. I know enough to make homeopathic remedies and treatments like old-fashioned salves, powders, and tinctures in place of pharmaceuticals which we never seem to have,” Ariel clarified for the very confused medic. “Command seems happy enough to send us to send us books and plants instead of the meds we actually need. I have some books on the xenobotany, and we have equipment to make extracts, so I try to replace what I can from whatever I can forage in the forest and grassy plain nearby.”

“Wait, you been outside this box canyon?” Tucker exclaimed.

“Yes…? There’s a lot of footholds and passages if you know where to look.”

“Whatever just get over there. And take Doc with you.”

“I keep telling you I’m not a real doctor.” So much defensiveness for such a small thing. Maybe their medic had a bit of bad experience with the profession?

“I don’t care. We’re just going to call you that from now on.”

“Okay, but I don’t think it’ll catch on.”

“Great. Now go with Ariel.”

The medic sputtered, “Wait, wait, wait, why me? I don’t even have a gun nor know how to use one.”

“Because. I don’t want you over here. So, go with Ari and get the fuck over to Caboose. Pretend to shoot by saying ‘bang, bang’,” Church deadpanned, face behind his visor probably set in stone like his tone.

“Hmm,” Doc stirs uneasily from foot to foot, “that still kind of sound too violent. And didn’t I tell you? I’m not allowed to get involved in your war unless someone gets hurt.”

“Oh, _really_?”

A shot rang out.

“Church!”

Ariel grabbed DuFresne and forced him to run after him as they made it to the other Blue.

Caboose whimpered as he danced around, weapon tossed carelessly to the side.

“Caboose quit hopping from foot-to-foot.”

“But it hurts a lot, Ari!”

“Then don’t stand. Sit down. Here, elevate your foot on this rock. Doc, do you have any antibiotics, pain relievers, or wraps?”

“Well, no, but I have this scanner.”

Seriously? After everything he just explained… Command just loved screwing with them.

“Okay, then can you please check Caboose over? I have a home-made kit in my pack.”

If Church was the jerk leader, Tucker the semi-normal playboy, and Caboose the wildcard, then Ariel had designated himself as the go-to guy who kept them all reasonably healthy, no more insane than usual, and most importantly, not dead.

He now sported a lightly armored backpack with the emergency med kit including one of the few canisters of emergency biofoam they had, spare clips, some of his smaller tools, a space-grade thermos, a few packets of MRE’s, and a handful of water purifying tablets.

Removing his gauntlets for better dexterity, Ariel quickly takes out a needle and surgical thread set, a swab, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a roll of gauze, and a small container of powder.

Saving Doc from Caboose’s weirder than normal nonsense, Ariel got to work, sterilizing the wound before sewing up the toe the best he could and binding it. Then he handed Caboose a thermos cup, the water already mixed with the powder.

“Here, this should numb the pain for a while. It’s bitter, but better than screaming pain every time you drag your foot across the ground,” Ariel warned Caboose before he could guzzle down the medicine.

The guy took it a lot better than he thought he would, only complaining _after_ he swallowed it.

“Okay, the biofoam kept the blood loss minimal. As long as no one else shoots it or something, your pinky toe should be fine. Just try to avoid stubbing it on stuff or tearing out your stitches.”

* * *

The Reds had stopped firing shortly after Ariel went over with Doc to treat Donut’s toe injury.

If he got the gist of it right, Church had bargained their ‘surrender’ with an exchange: Doc for the Reds to have one of them humiliate himself in front of them.

It didn’t really surprised Ariel negotiations took two hours. Again, the people here in Blood Gulch were a real special group of individuals all around.

“Caboose, mind handing me the wrench?”

“Wrench, wrench, wrench...”

“The silver tool with two pointy ends, kind of has a square gap like when you lose a tooth?”

“Oh, that wrench! **Don’t pander me, you pathetic wretch**.”

_There is definitely something abnormal going on_, Ariel thought, sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth in thought.

First the O’ Malley thing and bouts of talking like a competent soldier, now the strange deep voice and tendency to threaten and/or insult people.

He didn’t think Caboose had MPD, guy didn’t behave any differently until sometime _after_ Church left to try and warn the Reds about Tex and their tank.

But how did that event correlate to these odd moments of psychotic temperament?

“Hey, hey, Ariel!”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I was wondering…when are you going to fix Sheila?”

He slid out from under the tank’s skirt.

“Don’t know. I was able to reset her safety protocols – no clue why someone changed the friendly-fire setting off.” It wasn’t easy, and he had to force access to her offline systems with no little ‘creative computer programming’. Ariel tapped an armored finger against the wrench in thought. “But I’m not exactly a mechanic, and while I have some experience with jury rigging repairs for cars, tanks are kind of in their own category of vehicle. I’m good with computers though. It would help if I had a manual or her specs, but Command didn’t exactly issue any when they sent Sheila.”

“So…soon?”

Ariel shook his head then felt guilty as Caboose’s face fell. He spoke as he got to his feet, one hand sweeping off his armored leggings. “Sorry, Caboose, but I just don’t have this kind of expertise.”

The world suddenly tilted, but Ariel firmly focused on one point. It seemed to work as the moment passed.

Caboose had grabbed his arm, steadying him before he could fall over.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to go get Doc from the Reds?”

Caboose sounded uncharacteristically worried, voice going small, making Ariel feel bad. The guy already had a lot going on in his own head, Ariel needed to get his shit together.

“Nah, it’s fine. I just been having these episodes now and again. Probably has to do with my amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” Tucker had walked over to the two. “When did you get amnesia?”

“From before I joined this merry band of delinquents. I was put into a coma. Apparently, I suffered a severe head injury about…a year and a bit back? I finally woke up several months ago, got assigned to Blood Gulch, took the long route here, and here I am.”

“Yikes, you lost what, almost two years either way? Sounds rough there, buddy. So, what do you remember?” Tucker asked. “Not that you need to tell me; I’m not trying to pry or anything.”

“It’s fine,” Ariel said. “I know my mind is a mess. There are certain things I remember how to do, and I retain my general knowledge like history and language. But my personal memories are nearly gone, especially the ones further back. I was told I was working on some sort of apprenticeship to full status as an engineer in lieu of formal education. But not long after signing on, there was some sort of explosion at the base I was working, and I got caught in it.”

He didn’t really have much in scars, though, unless more of the damage was internal and head-based than the typical burns and shrapnel damage explosions brought to mind. Exhibit A being the faint scars he had when Sheila blew them up.

“So, over a year lost to a coma and even more to long-term memory loss from brain damage. I didn’t even know my own name when I woke up. Anyways, they told me they would ease me back into things by sending me out here. Apparently, Blood Gulch is a low priority holding, hence the minimal garrisoning of the base. It took me a while to arrive, though, because I had to relearn some things, catch up on what I missed, then Command recommended we take the scenic route here because of a rise in pirate and Insurrectionist activity in the area or something.”

Tucker shook his head. “Man, like I said, sounds rough. I can’t imagine waking up without knowing the awesomeness that is me. Although, girls like the tragic backstory thing you got going on. And since you’re essentially a blank slate, they’ll totally go for you. You know, hope to fix you and mold you into their ideal of a man.”

“Thanks…” He was getting used to Tucker’s extraneous bits of advice. He would prefer he didn’t, but it was better than the Reds’ eccentricities.

“Oh, what does it mean by ‘personal memory’?” Caboose asked.

“Well, like experiences,” Ariel explained patiently. “Take my marksmanship. I have a dead-on aim, but I don’t know how long it took me to get to that point or where I learned it in the first place. Basically, I don’t really remember the years before I fell into a coma too clearly, and my childhood and adolescence – teenage years – are a big blank spot. And considering I’m like twenty according to my records, I don’t exactly have those years to spare.”

“You’re only twenty?” Tucker exclaimed. “You’re just a kid. You’re not even legal! Hey, Caboose, how old are you?”

“**Why should I tell an insignificant pest like you?** I’m 27!”

“See? Even Caboose is older than you. And you were like 18 when you enlisted?”

Ariel nodded.

“Then you got knocked out for over a year right off the bat?! _That’s_ messed up, dude. Anyway, I didn’t come here to dig into your past or anything. Church needs your help.”

“I’m kind of trying to see if I can help Sheila… / He’s fixing Sheila!”

Caboose turned to Tucker, malevolence rolling out from him. “**Don’t interfere if you want your insides to remain where they are**.”

“Church, he’s doing it again!”

“Shut up and bring them over here!”

The light blue soldier placed a hand on his helmet where his brow would be.

“Okay, look, Caboose, O’ Malley, either of you, we’re trying to see if Church can fix Sheila with his robot powers. Ariel, I know you’re trying your best, but don’t you think the whole amnesia thing is probably part of the reason why you have trouble fixing a tank when you can fix the teleporter?”

“…probably,” Ariel reluctantly agreed. He could understand his teammate’s reasoning, he didn’t like it, but Tucker had a good point. “Okay, let’s go see what Church needs us to do.”

* * *

“…so, you had Tucker flip some mysterious switch neither of you knew the purpose of or how it could potentially impact your current function, and now you hear a continuous beeping sound?”

“That’s about the sum of it.” Church sounded even more irritated than normal. Whether it was because of the beeping or the knowledge he had two teammates with questionable mental states was to be determined. “And the fucking beeping won’t fucking stop.”

Maybe it was just the beeping. Church was pretty callous and repeatedly told them all he didn’t care at all about their personal problems.

“And it so happened for whatever godly reason, Sarge put this switch near your pelvic region. Wonder what went into the guy’s mind to put at such an awkward position?” Ariel lightly commented, tone carefully neutral to conceal the smile on his face and his evident amusement at the situation.

“Hell, if I know. He’s a Red, and I don’t fucking care to psychoanalyze the guy.”

“Fair enough…okay, let me see what I can do.” Ariel knelt on one knee, carefully looking for aforementioned switch. Spotting the aforementioned switch, Ariel carefully went to push it when…

“Did you find it?”

Caboose suddenly placed a hand heavily on Ariel’s shoulder, the one connected to the hand about to touch the switch.

The unexpected force jerked Ariel’s hand forward, forcing him to move his hand to brace against Church…while the other accidently broke the switch off rather than flip it.

Silence.

“Caboose-!” the cobalt soldier nearly roared.

“You know,” Ariel began, trying to reason with the slightly homicidal man, “maybe the beeping has a reason. It could be some sort of continuous function we unknowingly triggered and don’t even notice is happening because Church’s inexperience with robotics, coding, or any sort of technology.”

“Don’t know, don’t care, I just want it to stop,” the man growled, hand creeping for his holstered weapons.

Ariel doubted Church had any pleasant ideas in regard to Caboose.

“Well, there are several wires also exposed in this section. I’ll just take the pliers and snip the one connected underneath the switch.”

“Ooh, ooh, can I do it?” Caboose asked excitedly.

“No!” protested Church, emphasizing the point with a hand on his holstered assault rifle. Despite this, Ariel handed the guy his pliers. He could feel eyes boring from behind the faceless yellow-orange visor.

“He can’t possibly mess this up,” Ariel assured him. “Now, Caboose, remember how I showed you how to use these earlier? Just cut the wire closest to the switch.”

“Okay…which one is that?”

“The red one, Caboose. No, not that one, that’s green. No! The blue one is your own finger, don’t go cutting into it, I just sewed you up earlier!”

“You still sure Caboose can’t mess this up?”

* * *

Good news: the beeping stopped.

Bad news…Church became paralyzed from the waist down.

“It doesn’t make sense.” He reviewed some basic blueprints he made from the data his tech scanner sent him.

“What doesn’t make sense? Caboose ruined everything he touched? Because guess what? We already fucking knew that!”

“No, the wiring. It’s a mess. Although, as long as that particular wire was connected properly, it shouldn’t have mess with the lower motor control systems.”

Tucker shrugged from where he was trying to fix whatever they just broke. “It’s Sarge’s robot. It was stuck in Spanish-speaking mode when the only person who even knows Latino-whatever is you, a Blue.”

“Tucker’s sounds like he’s right,” Caboose agreed. “**Nevertheless, I shall harvest his non-essential organs for my own use. **I still think Church should try to walk it off or run. That always helps me when I get a funny feeling in the lower half of my body.**”**

“Carrying on,” Ariel cut in before things could go darker…or weirder, “What do we do now?”

Tucker chipped in, “You know, this isn’t as big of a deal as you make it, Church. I, mean, you hardly ever use them. I never seen a grown man ask for so many piggyback rides.”

“Hey, hey, I told you – that was for science.”

“I don’t want to know,” Ariel muttered.

“Ooh, ooh, pick me!”

“Ugh. Yes, Caboose?” Church answered.

“Yay, you picked me!”

“Caboose, what did you want to fucking say already?!”

The blue soldier stopped hopping around. “Well, if you can’t use your legs to walk…why don’t you just walk on your hands? Then you can use your feet for high fives, eat sandwiches…you know the important stuff.”

Church turned to them. “Any _other_ bright ideas?”

Picking up his tools, Ariel cleaned up the severed wires a bit before attempting to reattach various ones at Church’s direction.

“You know, attaching wires at random probably will just make things worse.”

“Well then, do you have any other suggestions, tech-guy?”

“We might be better off if we had Senior Roboto’s schematics,” Ariel suggested mildly. “My tech scanner can only do so much.”

Church snorted. “Oh? And who’s going to go over there and infiltrate Red Base, smart guy? ‘cause we all know how well that went last time.”

“Never mind. Here, Tucker, bring the flashlight over closer,” Ariel requested, gesturing the soldier closer.

He let Caboose’s chatter and Church’s angry yelling fall into the background as he moved and reconnected various combinations of wires.

“Hey Blues!”

It was the Reds again.

Was it just Ariel, or did those guys always showed up when it less than ideal: just when they were about to retrieve their flag, after Church just explained to Doc about their trigger-happy fingers, and now when his seniors were in a rather compromising position to any onlookers?

“What were you doing down there?” the orange Red asked.

Tucker hastily straightened. Ariel didn’t bother as he soldered another piece of wire back together.

“Nothing. Wha-what are you talking about?”

“We were just playing a game!” Caboose shouted.

“What do you want, Reds?” Church shouted at them despite his inability to twist his body much around where his lower torso remained planted. “If you don’t get out of here, we’ll start shooting!”

“Oh yeah?” the orange one countered. “Then why don’t you tell that to my face?”

Church had no comeback for that seeing as he couldn’t physically turn around or twist his body well in the MJOLNIR.

Apparently, the Reds wanted to give them Doc.

Thinking about why in the world they would give up a medic (even a crappy one), Ariel figured DuFresne must have said or done something even their crazy rivals couldn’t stand.

Although, to be frank, the guy did get on everyone’s nerves here in the short time he stayed with the Blues.

“Look, we don’t want him back, and we could care less what you do with him. If you don’t mind, we’d appreciate it if you guys finally leave. We’re kind of in the middle of something…private here.”

“Seriously?” Ariel couldn’t help but comment aloud. “I know outright denial is never a good option except in court, but even a weak evasion would be five times better than an innuendo.”

“Shut it,” Church hissed. “And it wasn’t an innuendo!”

Ariel snorted, “Sure, _we_ know, but _they_ don’t.”

“Fine,” the maroon soldier finally relented. “But don’t come back asking for him later.”

“We won’t!”

Ariel watched as the Reds went back the way they came. Halfway, they stopped.

“Last chance!”

Church instead of yelling, gave Ariel a look. The indigo soldier took the visual hint and unholstered his gun.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

“Three centimeters from the left side of the visor, lined up to the pupil,” the technician pronounced coolly.

“Jesus!” the orange one yelped.

“Alright, alright, we’re going!” the one leading the trio shrieked as he scrambled faster away from Blue Base.

“Wow, you Blues sure know how to shoot and score!” the pink soldier complimented (?) as he ran off with the others.

“…did he say what I thought he said?”

“Yep. Also, remind me never to get you mad,” Tucker remarked with a whistle. “Seriously, why did you get sent here to the backwoods of nowhere and left of nothing ever happens? They could use someone like you to, you know, fight aliens and shit.”

“Hey, did they finally leave after Ariel there shot at them?” Church asked.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to tell from this far away. I bet I could tell you if I had the sniper rifle.”

Ariel hummed, looking to the side. “Umm, Tucker? Turn around.”

Caboose had the sniper rifle.

The aqua soldier cursed his missed opportunity…again!

So, the Reds left for real, but they also left the medic behind in the zone between the bases.

Church thought the Reds had something schemed. Caboose agreed…in his own way.

Eyebrows pinched in thought, Ariel considered the situation and how the Reds sounded when they left. If they really didn’t want the Doc…they probably just abandoned the guy to fend for himself.

Ariel decided since reason didn’t really work in this canyon he would just observe quietly as the medic approached and gave a very poor proposal on why the Blues should let him mooch off of them and stay at their base.

If the guy supposedly had some psychology background, shouldn’t he have figured from their earlier interactions Church had no problem facing people? And even if he was…bringing up someone’s problems around one’s peers was _not_ a smart idea.

Eventually, Doc got the memo and left.

And now they were back to brainstorming solutions on how they could fix Church’s legs.

“Fuck, I can’t just continue like this,” Church complained. “Unless Tucker wants to volunteer to give me piggyback rides.”

“I think I’ll pass this time,” the aqua soldier replied. “Why don’t we call for a professional, someone who can fix you? And fix Sheila while we’re at it.”

“Tucker,” Church slowly enunciated. “Aside from the enemy commander, the only person who can fix either of those are Senior El Roboto and Texas.”

“Yeah,” Caboose added, “she can be a bit hard to work with.”

“Dead people usually are.”

“Tucker, frankly I find your comment highly offensive,” said dead man responded blankly.

Tucker looked unrepentant.

“I still don’t believe you’re a ghost,” Ariel muttered to himself.

“Then what about that Lopez person?” Caboose suggested. “Can we ask if he can fix you?”

“No. Remember? I’m kind of in his body at the moment.”

“Then how about you just leave his body, then Tucker and I can make him fix your body and my girlfriend!”

“Girlfriend?”

“Umm, err…” the rookie stuttered, trying to take back his words.

Ariel was still stuck on trying to process how Caboose of all people just had a thoughtful and well-reasoned idea outside of one of his weird moods. Tucker and Church weren’t much better, the former actually punching Church to check if he was dreaming.

While Caboose’s theory was good on paper…implementation hit a few snags. Namely, Church’s teammates.

Ariel had only left for a moment to see if he had something to potentially bargain with the robot when he came out and saw said robot fleeing across the valley.

Jumping back to ground level, Ariel yelled in a panic, “Weren’t you two going to keep an eye on Lopez?!”

“What do you mean, he’s right…oh.”

“Look! Mr. Robot’s legs work again!”

“I can see that,” sighed Ariel. “Damn, the guy runs fast. Probably the lack of pesky things like lactic acid or respiration. Welp, let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Ah, back in the spirit world. I forgot how good this feels, not having the burdens of a body like achy limbs and gravity. Hey…what did you guys do with my body?”

“Well, we- / You see, Church…”

“They lost it,” Ariel bluntly stated for them. “Now, we’re heading out to retrieve your body before Lopez can reach the Reds and probably get mowed down by bullets.”

“Wait, why would the Reds fire on him? Isn’t he one of them in the first place?” Tucker questioned.

“We spray-painted him blue. As far as anyone in this canyon is concerned, that makes him a Blue…” Sarge had a very simplistic way of viewing the world: Reds were the greatest, Blues were the enemy, and Grif should die, and hopefully die being useful for once. It was very frustrating and made no sense about half the time. That and Ariel strongly suspected the enemy commander might be suffering from senility.

Before Church could respond, Caboose had turned away and started firing off sniper rounds at El Roboto until Church got him to stop.

The ghost outlined a quick plan then disappeared.

Suffice to say, they didn’t really follow it.

Instead of going through the teleporter like Church ordered, Tucker tossed a grenade through it. Ariel tilted his head at the other inquiring.

“Tucker, you do remember I fixed the last bugs two months ago, right?”

“I’m not taking any chances. Plus, my idea is way cooler. All right, let’s go and get him.”

* * *

The three of them stopped the robot at gunpoint.

“Okay, time to give up El Roboto. Now come along quietly and fix our stuff.”

Then Lopez started to ramble on and on about the Reds, rising above, and other kind of inflammatory propaganda-like notes from what Ariel could make out from the rant.

“Man, this guy is worse than Church!” complained Tucker as he turned to Caboose and Ariel. “Do you think if we kick him in the switch he’ll shut up? What is he saying, anyways?”

They looked over to Ariel who just shook his head. “You don’t really want to know. I’m questioning whether my Latin might just be rusty. In short, Sarge remembered to write in a strong loyalty program…that and delusions of grandeur. Although, it could be the guy’s Latino temperance,” their best Spanish interpreter in the outpost remarked rather casually, ignoring how his comment only spurred more angry ranting.

“Uh, guys? We might want to be in the business of the running? The fast running?” Caboose shrilly squeaked, backing up.

The Blues fled as the Warthog/Puma charged right for them.

Ariel stopped short when he heard the loud explosion and crashing behind him.

_Lopez must have some sort of manual override control over the Warthog,_ the indigo soldier thought as he cautiously approached the robot.

_“**My spirit is broken. Even my own people have betrayed me. Do whatever you will with me**_…”

“Hey, Ariel? Is he going to go all Terminator on us, or what?”

He got words like spirit, broken, people, betrayed, and a general sense of resignation and despair.

“…come on, Lopez. Maybe you’ll feel better if you work on fixing Sheila.”

Ariel, because he was just a glutton for punishment, decided to keep Lopez company, letting the Spanish-speaking robot just metaphorically cry on his shoulder and pour out his broken programmed heart.

The other guys would probably think him weird for this, but Ariel always considered AI’s people in their own way, even simple ones like Lopez and Sheila who didn’t benefit from a human basis or leaps of logic like smart AIs.

Lopez seemed to appreciate it, especially as Ariel could somewhat understand him. Plus, the human was pretty tech-savvy even if the tank mechanics continued to baffle him.

“Come on, hurry, hurry!” Caboose begged, hopping up and down. “I want to speak to Sheila! **And then start eliminating everyone.**”

“You mean all the Reds, right?” Tucker nervously chuckled.

“Of course. **For starters.**”

A pointed frown darkened Ariel’s expression. _Right…real assuring. _“Hey, Caboose, are you sure you don’t want me to run a quick scan? I don’t have Doc’s scanner, but I think I rig something from our suits and the stuff we have lying around.”

“No, I’m fine! **He knows too much. We should get rid of him first**.”

Ariel quickly turned back to welding a few more metal parts back together, pretending he didn’t just hear that.

Shortly after, Lopez finished fixing Sheila. The two then made ‘wide eyes’ at one another.

Luckily, Lopez was stopped before the dreaded love triangle of jealousy could begin to grind in place.

Only…it wasn’t Church who took over.

Texas came back from the supposed land of the dead to warn them about O’ Malley who was her old AI and not just some strange personality split of Caboose. She also obviously wanted to finish off the AI as soon as possible, ordering Church to help her by following O’ Malley into Caboose’s head.

Meanwhile the others were to somehow block off all possible exits by shutting down the radio systems of both teams.

They didn’t get any sort of advice to enact the plan aside from a reminder to get it done as soon as possible.

* * *

“I really hope they don’t freak out,” Tucker sighed as Sheila rumbled across the valley.

Ariel looked pointedly at the cannon positioned next to his ‘seat’ on the tank.

“…well, we can’t just waltz over there with just our guns. We got to think of our own safety first,” Tucker defended.

_Right…like that makes much of a difference to the Reds._ No doubt at least one of them will end up screaming into their base at the sight of several tons of metal death machine coming right to their base. They would be lucky if the Reds didn’t just blockade themselves in there.

Besides, with the Warthog blown up (again), the Reds could only shoot at them, and Ariel proved he was more than adequate shot to handle a little fire exchange. He just normally didn’t care to kill the Reds when he still didn’t have a good reason for why the hell they were fighting these guys in the first place.

“…you are never driving Sheila ever again,” Ariel deadpanned as he got back to his feet.

Tucker had crashed Sheila right up against the base. Ariel barely escaped worse damage by jumping off to the side in the direction she flung Lopez who had ran way too close to her on impact.

The indigo soldier had done his best to stabilize the orange soldier, the victim of Tucker’s first (and last) manual driving attempt of Sheila. But it didn’t look good if the guy didn’t undergo major surgery…preferably involving organ transplants, but where would they find those just lying around this derelict and remote outpost? The best Ariel could hope for was to drag the downed soldier over to the entrance of Red Base, hoping the suit’s biofoam and Recovery Mode would hold him together long enough for an airlift or something.

“Aw, man. Do you think this will hinder negotiations? Oh, and Lopez, you okay there?”

_“**Lopez the Heavy is impervious to injury, unlike inferior flesh beings. As for the orange one…very unlikely,**_” Lopez helpfully contributed. ”**_He serves no strategic importance nor value. It is very likely Red Team’s efficiency would rise by 34% with his eventual termination._**”

“Harsh,” Ariel said after he pieced together what the robot said. “Maybe the Reds have some idea of what to do.” If they did, good, they were in better shape doctoring-wise than them. “Lopez, if you could be so kind, can you collaborate with Sheila and hack into the Reds’ communications network?”

“He means get inside Sheila and do what you gotta do.”

A hand splayed over his helmet visor as both machines flustered as much as their programming would allow.

“Yo, Red guys, you read me?”

:: Who in Sam Hell is this? :: came the gravelly voice of Sarge over the radio.

“Oh, I’m Tucker, one of the Blues.”

The enemy commander snarled, :: What the hell do you goddamn Blues want? ::

“Listen, I don’t really have time to explain. I need you guys to turn off your radios.”

:: Boy, it will be a cold day in hell before I take orders from any Blue ::

“Listen, this is kind of important,” Tucker pleaded their case. Maybe Tucker could pull this off-?

“Look, normally I’d just shoot at you and steal your girlfriends, but this is more important. You’re just going to trust me on this.”

“Tucker, you might want to dial down the inappropriateness and remove the potentially threatening word choice,” Ariel advised from the side.

In hindsight, letting Tucker handle diplomacy with the Reds probably wasn’t the greatest of ideas if he was going to act this way.

Sarge answered them with blatant sarcasm followed by someone named Griff telling them to suck it.

“So, negotiations have broken down?” Ariel rhetorically asked. “Plan B?”

“Plan B,” agreed Tucker. “Damn those Reds for being such stubborn assholes. Okay, Lopez, it’s time to shine!”

“_Si_.”

A remix beat of techno began to play.

“**_The first time I saw your treads_**

** _And enormous chassis of steel…_ **

** _I knew that I had found someone_ **

**_To share a robot love so real…_**”

If this was bad for the Reds, it was even more terrible for the guy who could partially translate the sappy monotone lyrics.

Ariel was one step ahead of him by the time Tucker came back to tell them to turn off their radios.

After a bit, Church reappeared by them and said they took care of O’ Malley. Done with their work, the Blues plus Sheila and Lopez headed back to base.

And if Church seemed extremely moody when a certain Freelancer ‘ghost’ was noticeably absent after she forced them to fix her problem, well, it was pretty obvious who was the needy one of this relationship.


	3. A Bouquet of Roses

“Speaking”

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

_“**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions…or MPD**”

{Tea Rose - I’ll remember you always}

Ariel checked over both Sheila, Lopez, and Caboose for any damaged from their little encounter with the wild AI.

“Okay, I’ve been having Lopez show me some things about tanks, and he kindly offered to send me a how-to manual for basic repairs and maintenance to my helmet data stores. Everything looks pretty good from when Lopez put you back online, Sheila. Some dings and scrapes from Tucker’s little first run, but nothing too difficult I couldn’t fix with some good old-fashioned elbow grease, a hammer, and some metal cloths. Same with Lopez.”

“Thank you for your consideration Corporal Ariel.”

“**_Yes, your efforts are very much appreciated by Lopez the Heavy_**.”

Ariel waved off the comments, grinning stupidly within his helmet. “Heh, it’s nothing much. Just part of the job of a tech, like double-checking the weapon stores (because no one else seem to take good care of their equipment) and running maintenance on things like the teleporter. Now, you two take care of things while I go inside and check on Caboose.”

Caboose unsurprisingly suffered some mental damage from having the equivalent of three minds occupying his head.

“Church, yelling at him won’t bring his memories back any sooner,” the tech and self-made medic tried to explain again. “The mind is still something even experts haven’t completely unraveled. From what you told us, O’ Malley destroying Caboose’s mental image of you probably corrupted all pertaining memories.”

“What are you guys talking about? Also, who is this guy?” Caboose whispered the last.

“You have a form of amnesia, like I do. Just like I don’t really remember my past, you forgot all about Church.”

Caboose laughed. “I’d think I remember someone with such a ridiculous name!”

Church groaned in annoyance. Then the back-and-forth started.

“I thought you didn’t like the guy, anyways? Why are you so butt-hurt about this?” Tucker remarked. From what he could tell, Church wasn’t the kind of guy to care – or show he cared about other people.

“Because! It’s just annoying to have to be reintroduced plus…”

“Psst, the new guy is kind of a jerk.”

Ariel could imagine Church popping a vein underneath his helmet. “-that! I am _not_ the new guy, you are!”

And the conversation just further devolved from there as Tucker unhelpfully took amusement in calling Church the rookie.

“How about Caboose and I try some techniques to see if we can jog a memory or two loose from wherever it got scattered?” the indigo soldier offered. Hopefully, the experience really just dispersed the fragments of memory or buried them deep rather than actually delete them.

_Fragments…Memory…_ Ariel paused a moment as his vision fizzled for a second then went back to dragging Caboose inside the base. As long as it wasn’t a full-on flash or fit, he was going to ignore it.

Caboose now sort of remembered a little bit about Church after Ariel reviewed every crazy thing to happen to them since arriving to Blood Gulch over three months ago. Whether it was because his mind was filling in the blanks as Ariel drew attention to them, or because his retelling did somehow help to retrieve the blue soldier’s lost memories was hard to say.

It may or may not have also doubled as entertainment as Ariel used his tech skills to bring up recordings he saved in his helmet and downloaded onto his holopad.

* * *

{Christmas Rose – anxiety}

“What’s up?”

Tucker had called all the Blues to the rec room for an emergency meeting.

“Guys, I don’t want to alarm anyone…but Sheila and Lopez have agreed to strike until “conditions improve” for the machines. They seem to be under the idea no one will dare oppose them.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Church grunted. “Didn’t you try saying anything to them? Like, try to convince them _not _to rebel? Next thing you know, they’ll move to world domination plans!”

“You kidding? I wouldn’t dare think of opposing them!”

This didn’t seem to assure Church at all. “Honestly, just when we got over one problem, another pops up. What, did they think this is easy on any of us? They were built to fight in this war!”

“War? We’re fighting some Red guys for control over a box canyon,” Tucker complained.

He had a good point. Their rivalry with the Reds from that perspective sounded pretty shoddy at best.

Seriously, what _was_ the point? So far, the only times things got particularly hairy was when Freelancer Texas butted into their liv-

//_-ject Free-_

_-ulation Tr- … Red and Blue…_

_Drawn from the b-om…_

_Train-…-nds for the real- _//

Ariel raised his hands to clutch his head.

_Damnit, damnit, damnit! Three months! Three months since the last episode! What is wrong with me?_

Images flashed through his head, colorful blurs. Muffled voices.

So absorbed, Ariel didn’t even register someone shaking him until a gauntlet hand slapped him.

“Ariel, get ahold of yourself!”

The indigo soldier stilled. “Wh-what? Did you just hit me, Tucker?”

The Blue’s face was hidden, but he could feel the guy’s worry. “Dude, we already have one hot mind mess with Caboose. Then there’s Church the ghost and the rioting machines. What’s going on?”

Ariel breathed in, once, twice…

He shoved his helmet off, feeling a little suffocated.

Lavernius Tucker blinked at the unexpected action. One of the few rules set down by Captain Flowers (before he kicked the bucket) was the importance of wearing armor at all times, even on base, except in the case of medical care or in their own rooms. For such a cheerful guy, he seemed pretty strict on that one rule while he left the rest for interpretation.

And Tucker did remember getting told the same before getting shipped to Blood Gulch. Something about how it left their armor systems vulnerable or something like that if they so much as removed the helmet.

Chances were Caboose and Ariel got the whole spiel, too, since until now, Tucker never seen either without their helmet.

Damn, Ariel looked young. He knew the guy was 20, but it was another thing to see it.

The guy also did look pretty good, you know, if Tucker swung that way – which he didn’t!

Ariel was probably just a couple inches shy of six feet without armor, but easily shorter than Caboose (what did they feed that kid, bulls?). He had dark hair with some reddish highlights. Knowing Ariel, it probably was regulation cut at one point but allowed to grow as the months stretched without any reminders. His eyes were what really got Tucker’s attention, a dark sapphire color veering toward the same blue-violet of his armor when the light hit them at the right angle…

…did he really just think that? Hell, he’s been alone in this valley with no one but men and Texas (who wasn’t much better) for way damn way too long!

His train of thought came to a screeching halt as he noticed something else.

“…uh, Ariel? You haven’t been messing with the teleporter recently, have you? ‘cause your eyes…they’re glowing.”

“They what.”

“Yeah…it’s pretty cool and all, but they kind of give you a radioactive look. You know, like Hulk but more like the violet part of ultraviolet.”

“Oh, oh! Is Ariel turning superhuman?” Caboose chirped in question. “I knew it!”

“No,” Church and Tucker said together, not really wanting to hear what Caboose thought of all this.

“Seriously, dude, the weird fainting spell? Do we need to tell you to lay off mystery meat Monday…and whatever alien plants you’ve experimenting on in the med bay?”

Ariel was at a loss for words. What could he say? That he kept getting weird visions and voices in his head like Caboose…except the other rookie’s problem was easily explained by having a fucked up AI in his head then having his teammate and his girlfriend take about zero precautions while hunting the intelligence program down.

If he told his teammates the whole story, they might think he was losing it. Or maybe he suffered some sort of brain damage from whatever caused his amnesia.

But…all three of them, even go-happy Caboose and Mr. I-don’t-have-feelings Church looked worried.

In the end, he spilled the beans, as much good it did him. The only medical expert they had was Doc…and since the guy told them himself his role was to “make people more comfortable…while they died”…

For now, Ariel promised to tell the guys if he had another episode and maybe see if he could remember anything from his lost past since their best theory linked his whole selective memory loss with the fits.

Ariel went topside and tried to meditate/rest and otherwise clear his head.

It did him about zero amount of good. His memories were as slippery and out of touch as they were before, tauntingly there but unattainable.

Then his radio fizzled to life.

:: Ari, get down here. We got ourselves a hostage! ::

“A what-now?”

Ariel got to his feet, back into his gear (sitting with his legs cross was really hard in full armor) and ran back inside the base.

* * *

“Church, considering your less than stellar record impersonating living people, maybe you should let Tucker or me talk?”

Nope, Church was being a stubborn ass with slight control issues. So, off they went to visit the Reds.

Ariel pulled Tucker to the side as a bullet whizzed past his elbow.

Eyes narrowing behind his visor, Ariel carefully lined up his gun.

“Ow! Mother-!”

_Bull’s eye._ Nothing critical…just a pointed warning delivered to the right hand of the guy who fired on them, forcing him to drop his weapon with a satisfying clattering of metal hitting the floor.

“Surrender to that, bitches,” Tucker cheered. “Man, for such an awkward nerd, you definitely hit your targets and score. Bow chicka bow wow.”

“…please don’t ever imply that again, Tucker,” Ariel choked out, cringing, face positively as ‘light-ish red’ as Donut here.

Somehow or another, the Reds agreed to their terms of ‘surrender’ in spite of the previous bit of hostility, exchanging two robots for their missing team members.

This time when Church left, the Blues had their guns trained on the guy’s latest unwilling host.

Before they could leave, though, Sarge spent an hour or so wasting their time by negotiating the ‘optional’ equipment of their commissioned robots.

Taking pity on a very trigger-happy Tucker, Ariel brought his best tech-guy face and straightened out as many of the details as possible.

He still had every intention of scanning and thoroughly checking the robots upon delivery for any ‘surprises’. Knowing how much a conniving bastard the Red Team’s leader, it was only practical.

It really wouldn’t surprise him if the die-hard Red installed some sort of remote self-destruct mechanism or something just like what happened with Lopez and the Warthog earlier.

They finally came back to the base…only to discover Sheila and Lopez had left to start their robot army.

According to them, they would meet with them for their terms of surrender/defeat at the center of the valley at 0600…the same time the Blues would meet the Reds to exchange Lopez and Donut for two mindless drones.

Was Ariel really the only one to see how this might complicate matters?

“This won’t end well.”

Caboose patted his back. “Don’t worry Ari, Church got this.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Church and diplomacy didn’t see eye to eye about 99 out of 100 times. And the same could be said about strategic thinking or plans.

* * *

“I’m just saying, from down here, don’t you think it looks more like a triangle?”

The three of them walked with Donut under guard at the center of their formation.

:: Does it really matter? ::

“I think shapes matter!”

:: Shut it, no one asked you, Caboose! Ugh, fine Triangle of Confusion, Parabola of Mystery, a damn Rhombus of Mischief-! Just get going! ::

“Again, shouldn’t we let Ari here get the sniper rifle? I’d feel safer if he was the one watching our backs rather than our intangible leader.”

:: You shut it, too, Tucker ::

“Yeah, thanks for all your help! Asshole.”

:: Fuck you, too! Your radio is still on! ::

“Caboose, did I ever tell you you’re my favorite Blue?” Ariel tapped his own radio on and broke up the two before they could really start cursing each other like back at base sometimes. With Texas’s disappearance and the whole potential of brain damage in their other two members, Ariel could sympathize with the last sane members of their team who felt the pressure.

And yes, Ariel kind of doubted his own sanity. Let’s face it, amnesia and fits did not make a convincing psychological profile.

Still, they did have an enemy combatant in their midst (however harmless in spite of his kill count). They needed to give at least a show of solidarity when they met up with the other Reds.

Each side watched warily from their corner of the field.

“Uh, Church? Lopez doesn’t sound too happy…”

:: Stick with the plan! As long as we get one robot on our side, I can take it over and draw Lopez’s fire, and you guys can grab the other one ::

Things got a bit crazy as everyone started pointed their weapons.

Ariel winced as the static from the Reds’ radio reached his earpiece.

…wait, wasn’t Vic the name of their guy from Blue Command?

He turned to Tucker.

“Did you hear what I just heard?”

“What the hell, Vic? Are you helping the Red Teams against us?! What the fuck is going on around here!”

Tucker was too into his own revelations to heed Ariel’s cutting off motion.

Vic was their lifeline outside of Blood Gulch, one did not give the guy the head’s up they were onto him without some sort of fallback. Who knows what kind of backlash this could bring?

Vic then made a poor excuse of a bad connection and hung up.

Ariel joined Tucker in yelling for everyone to hold their fire.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse…a blast rocked the ground, throwing Tucker into the air, and a purple flying thing raced past them and fired more plasma bursts.

“Tucker!” Caboose and Ariel shouted.

Somehow during the mayhem, O’ Malley/Doc kidnapped Lopez and made it on top of Red Base.

“Stop, stop! Truce!”

* * *

{Red and White Roses – unity…} 

Not even surprised at this point, Ariel continued tending to Tucker while everyone else kept arguing about the use of the word irony.

“Okay, how’s it looking for Tucker, Ariel?”

The indigo soldier rejoined the others after settling

He dutifully reported, “Stable for now. The biofoam kept his injury from getting worse until I could deactivate the armor lock from Recovery Mode and wrap it. If we’re lucky and his wounds look worse than they are, they’ll heal a little in the meantime. I still would like to have an actual professional see them, but an unpossessed Doc would do at this point.”

“Recovery what-now?” Grif questioned.

Rolling his eyes behind his visor, Ariel answered, “Recovery Mode. Our suits excrete a biofoam as standard for the Mark V armors for whenever the users within them suffer traumatic wounds to staunch bleeding and dull pain. It’s not a cure-all and internal wounds are still a major issue, but it helps hold a soldier together for a few hours until the compound dissolves. Anyway, in cases of severe trauma, the armor enters a stasis lock, Recovery Mode, and the user’s mind is sent to a virtual space in order to minimize potential mental trauma and to prevent struggling until a proper medic or doctor can tend to them. Is this really the first time-? Never mind.”

“All right. Everyone ready? Sarge, you go through first.”

“Got it! Today is a good day to teleport!” the diehard Red declared loudly. 

One by one, they all entered the teleporter.

* * *

“Ugh…where am I…?” 

It looked like their infirmary…except it didn’t have vials and sealed jars with mysterious substances and plant bits everywhere. It looked pretty organized, if a bit stiff, to be honest.

Wait…organized and kind of stiff…like a certain soldier. This was Red Base’s infirmary!

“Oh, good, you’re awake!” greeted the pink soldier Donut. “I was getting bored. And a bit emasculated. Those girls out there are no fun and keep talking about girl stuff – and not the fun kind like glitter and unicorns.”

Girls, girls…the only girls at Blood Gulch he knew were Tex and Sheila (which still sucked).

Well, Church did get the Reds to build the second robot for a reason.

Tucker went to get up- then nearly yelled in pain as his plasma-based wound made itself known.

“Jesus! Where’s Doc?”

Donut giggled. Actually giggled. “Don’t you remember? Doc was possessed by that evil guy and ran off through the teleporter – he’s the guy that shot you!”

“I know. I want him to come back and put me out of my misery.”

Seriously, his torso felt like he was burning alive still.

“Oh, wait. I remember! The nice indigo-colored guy said if you complained about pain, you should use this bottle of special medicine and this bottle of some sort of slick stuff to rub on yourself! It should take care of things pretty nicely, and you’ll find you’ll be up in no time! He left a note with instructions and everything. Well, I better go check on things outside. See ya soon~”

The pink soldier ran out the door.

Silence.

“…that guy _is_ a dude, right?” This guy was worse than Tucker when it came to liberal use of innuendos! He opened the folded piece of paper.

Dear Tucker,

The Blues and Reds called a truce in order to hunt down O’ Malley and Lopez whom he snagged for whatever reason.

I left some medicine for the pain and burns plus my homemade antibiotics since it took a while to convince the others to agree with each other about what we were doing…and obviously a certain someone didn’t trust me to take you inside their infirmary right away. If Donut forgets to tell you, everything should be set on the desk by the door. Don’t forget to clean your wound every so often to prevent infection. Below, there is a careful list of instructions on which medication is which and how to apply/take them.

Don’t overdo it or strain yourself.

Hopefully we can bring Doc back, so he can do his thing because you might need better expertise than what I hobbled together with local plants and our few actual supplies.

Keep an eye out for Texas if she shows up.

Corporal Vertitas Ariel

“Geeze, you’re such a mom, Ari. And, of course they thought it was a good idea to leave me with Donut, Sheila, and Texas. Two girls and one isn’t human while the other can turn me into a pretzel and is Church’s ex-girlfriend. So _not_ bow chicka bow wow.”

* * *

“So…Simmons, is it? I’m Ariel, the Blues’ technician.”

The two were by themselves in a strange room full of portals to who knows where. It looked like pretty much everyone had been scattered en route to the last destination of their teleporter.

Things got pretty awkward fast. Normally, Ariel didn’t much like making niceties or introductions, but the Red didn’t exactly seem too thrilled to be stuck alone with him.

Then again, he did shoot at the Reds several times…and disturbingly close to actually killing or maiming them.

“Actually, it’s Simmons 2.0. You see, Sarge after losing Lopez decided to make me a cyborg. Then after you Blue guys ran over our guy, he used my leftover body parts to fix Grif. By the way, thanks a lot for that,” grumbled the guy in maroon.

“Cyborg, huh? Well, it’s good to know your guy is alright. I was worried he wouldn’t make it since I’m neither a doctor nor medic.”

“Oh, that explains why he didn’t bleed to death. Sarge was pretty disappointed, but then he said we had to suck it up and deal with it.”

The Reds didn’t get along much better than his own team. That and Grif had scary-good survival skills or an angel over his shoulders if both his teammate(s) and commander seem to be vying for his incidental death while serving in the Reds and Blues’ war.

Aside from that, it was impressive to hear Sarge somehow didn’t entirely muck up what sounded like a scarily complex set of surgeries and robotics even with a lack of materials.

Ariel made himself a promise if he this, he’ll order more books on anatomy and medicine. Maybe a whole chemistry set. If Sarge can get a robot kit, why couldn’t he get his own mini laboratory set-up?

People in charge liked people with ambition and initiative normally. How else did the old man get his equipment?

The Red guy sighed. “Come in, Sarge, this is Simmons 2.0, come in! Your plan kind of failed, and everyone seemed to have been separated.”

“In retrospect, the two of us should have swept the coordinate software for hidden malware.”

Each team have been away from their respective bases for extended periods without any sort of guard at several points since O’ Malley disappeared the last time. For all they knew, the Doc under the mad AI’s influence sneaked into their bases and messed with their stuff.

“Oh, like that does us any good now,” the guy snipped.

“Well, is hailing the guy out of range from our radios doing us any good?”

“Just shut it, Blue.”

_This guy is a kind of a stuck-up jerk_. But he wasn’t as bad as Church, and Ariel could tolerate Church even when he was going on a regular blue-streak of curses (pun unattended). Like when he what happened after Tex and him disappeared into Caboose’s mind and how Tex vanished on him…again.

_Poor, poor Caboose._ The guy didn’t seem the same after he nearly killed him and definitely killed Church. Then O’ Malley came and made a mess of his mind, and those two made an even bigger mess what with them shooting up the private’s mindscape. If assassinating mental image-Church scrubbed the guy from Caboose’s memories, who knows what damage to his mental walls so to speak did?

Shaking off the morose turn of thoughts, Ariel walked around a bit. Most of the pathways ended in a dead-end with a portal they were not going to pull a Caboose and just enter on whim.

“Hey, Simmons? Did becoming a cyborg make you any more tech-savvy?”

“I’d like to say I had very competent technical engineering abilities before then, but yes, why?”

“How much energy would you say a teleporter would have to transmit for molecular breakdown, redistribution, then reconstitution?”

“I would have to calculate it to know for sure, but it probably accounts for most of the electrical needs of either of the bases …why?” Simmons looked back at the indigo soldier with a perplexed air.

“And how much would we need to divert to boost the signals of our radios?”

Between the two of them, Simmons and Ariel managed to turn one of the teleporter doorways into some sort of remote view in addition to overcoming whatever kept them from reaching the others.

“What are we watching?”

Simmons could only shake his head as he looked up from the wires to see the madness unfolding on the teleporter screen.

From what it looked like, they finally managed to find Sarge and Caboose who stood back-to-back as they fired on people also wearing regulation colors…and shouting about flags?

“Huh,” Simmons commented, completely distracted now. “It’s almost similar to our struggle but multiplied with more men, events of violent hostilities subsequently, and mixed with a strange reverence for…the flags?”

“So, Blue vs. Red but the flag worshipper edition?”

Simmons scoffed at him. “It’s Red vs. Blue, Blue! Your way sounds stupid!”

Did it really matter? Ariel continued, making Simmons sputter angrily at him.

“They’re like some sort of cult; that’s pretty messed up. And to think our guys in matching regulation colors were sent there together. It’s almost hard to tell them apart if they weren’t actually working together…and talking less like arrogant asses.”

Speaking of which…

“You know, it’s kind of suspicious really, how different their group and war dynamics are.”

Right…this guy is nearly as bad as Grif when it comes to waxing deep thinking shit, Simmons thought to himself as he picked out his beloved CO from the other Reds. “Hey, Sarge! Hey, Sarge, it’s me!”

It didn’t seem like the two could hear them (or they were being ignored as disembodied figments of their imaginations).

The two watched as the Red leader and Blue rookie snuck into the crazy Reds and Blues’ bases and stole their flags.

For a moment, it looked like they actually had a solid plan…except these guys were even dumber than the Blood Gulch gang. They just went back to mindless violence against each other.

Then Caboose went full-blown Terminator on the soldiers.

“What the fuck is going on with your guy?” Simmons 2.0 squawked, wide-eyed as Caboose went one-man army on the two armies.

Even as he spoke, Caboose barreled past gunfire and grappled with three more victims, pistol whipping one while shooting another. The last fled in terror.

“Umm…I guess he’s doing what he says? Channeling his inner O’ Malley?” The madman messed with Caboose’s head and emotions, it wasn’t entirely out of context for the AI to leave some sort of deep impression after months of unwilling symbiosis.

Didn’t Church mention something about mental images? Did Caboose honestly develop multiple personality disorder?

“Hey, wait, I think I can reroute more energy to boost our signal if I cross this wire-!”

Bingo!

While Simmons 2.0 went to talk with Sarge, Ariel sent his own hologram down to where Caboose wreaked untold carnage on the two bases.

“Caboose? Caboose, pay attention for a moment!”

“**You will all suffer in eternal darkness**! I- oh, Ari, you’re here! How _are_ you?”

_Good ol’ Caboose._ He’d take normal Caboose over the scary rampaging one who may or may not discriminate against friend or foe in his rage-induced state.

“I’ve been better. Listen, go follow Sarge over to the teleporter. Simmons and I are working on getting you guys over to wherever the hell _we_ landed.”

“Okay! By the way…when did you become a ghost like Church?”

“I am not a ghost; ghosts don’t exist,” Ariel continued to deny.

“Oh, that’s right, ghosts are white, and you are purplish blue. Did you shrink in the wash? Did you forget to separate the colors from the whites?”

“…just go follow Sarge,” Ariel sighed.

“Okay~ **I will feast on our enemies’ misery**.”

_A~and the insane version came back._

“Simmons, how’s the teleporter recon work going? I did the math from our previous glimpses into wherever those two wound up; those zombie soldiers will be back on their feet in only a few minutes after the first bugle blares!”

“Don’t rush me!”

:: Simmons, hurry up, we don’t have much time! ::

“Sarge, you know I don’t test well under pressure! I rely on you for love and support, and you yelling like this isn’t helping!”

This was an issue Ariel decided he would not touch with a two meter stick. Reds and their psycho-nonsense shouldn’t concern him when his team enough dramatics and problems for several teams.

Grabbing his holopad (good thing he snagged it earlier), Ariel hooked up its wireless connection to the teleporter.

“Simmons, I’ll handle the coordinates, just make sure the signal stays steady, so we don’t lose them between here and there!”

_And so I can learn less of your pervading daddy-issues_, he added silently while he worked.

“Again, not helping!” Simmons practically shrieked, vocalizer going kind of staticky for a sec.

The yelling from their guys’ end was getting steadily louder.

“Go through, go through now!” they both screamed.

They came through the doorway just in the nick of time as all four watched soldiers from either side march up to where teleporter stood.

“Simmons, you get an F for efficiency but an A+ for dramatic timing!” Sarge stated once they were sure the interdimensional door was firmly closed behind them.

The maroon soldier practically blushed under the very much wanted fatherly (to his head) attention.

Ariel frowned as his holopad (which may not be regulation or approved by Command, and the indigo soldier may have cobbled together from parts from other more innocuous junk) started sending him various news feeds and messages as it connected to this place’s wifi. It could even pick up on past conversation from the radios…

They weren’t perfectly recorded, and said recordings were automatically rendered in text, but it was the closest Ariel could get to getting some real information on what was going on with his outpost.

Oh. That doesn’t sound good.

Caboose leaned over to look at the screen. “Why is Tucker wanted? Does Church need him for something?”

“No, Caboose. It means someone took a hit on him – they want him dead - and they’ll pay someone to take him out. A mercenary. According to this, someone named Agent Wyoming is going to come after him.” Ariel came close to snapping the end of his stylus but refrained since he left his backup pens back at base.

Who wanted Tucker dead specifically, and why?

The only remarkable-slash-slightly-concerning-or-conspiratorial thing the guy has done so far beside conceal Church’s death from Command was…

_Oh. Oh no. _

Yeah. Conspiracies about their whole ‘war’ would do it. Ariel probably got off scot-free since he didn’t talk directly to Vic and tip him off.

That, or Tucker stole the wrong girl from the wrong man, and it came back to bite him in the ass. With the guy’s libido and his big mouth, it could swing either way.

And if the people who enhanced Texas had a naming scheme for their agents… they had _another_ Freelancer to look forward to meeting, and one not on their side. If Wyoming was even a tenth of a badass as Texas…

Well, with only a few special case-by-case exceptions, their guys sucked when it came to combat situations.

Before Ariel could start to panic, the Reds’ conversation drew him from one worry to another.

“You put a what in one of the robot bodies?” Ariel yelled.

“Psst, Ari. I think Sarge said he turned one of the robots into a giant firework display! Awesome! Let’s go and watch.”

Ariel aimed a stink-eye at the two Reds. Visor or not, it sent shivers running down the two’s spines.

“Turn on the listening device. Then Sarge will explain to me how to diffuse the bomb when we meet back up with everyone.”

His tone left no room for arguments.

“Oh-oh-oh-oh-! Can I turn it on?”

Ariel relaxed, dark aura dispersing. The Reds breathed a sigh of relief as the suffocating dark presence disappeared.

A little bit grateful, the Red leader consented to let Caboose press the button.

Ariel busied himself with his pad while discreetly listening onto the Reds as they discussed something.

It sounded like Vic had contacted them earlier, and they had a forewarning to not listen to a thing Tucker said.

_I guess I know who wants Tucker dead._ He filed away the information for later.

Distracted by his thoughts and half-made plans to do…something, they were half-made for a reason - Ariel didn’t keep as close of an eye on Caboose as he should.

He heard a series of beeping clicks.

Eyes widening, and Ariel jerked his head to the side. “Sarge, what did Caboose just do?”

The grim stance and chorus of ‘uh-oh’ were answer enough.

“Caboose, why don’t you help Sarge and Simmons out? I’m sure they’ll appreciate it~”

“No, I’m fine / We’re doing perfectly okay _without_ an extra person!”

Ariel cackled in his head as the two backed away from his teammate.

* * *

{…united}

“Okay, Ariel and I have the teleporter set up on our end. If Donut did everything correctly, you should teleport through one of our teleporters. All right, here’s hoping!”

The first person came running out, not stopping as she barreled past them.

A woman on a mission evidently.

Then Donut and Tucker followed after her.

Once more, Tucker’s armor was covered in soot.

“What? Just me? What the fuck?”

“Don’t complain, Tucker, we need to find Church pronto. Sarge let Caboose press buttons, and he set off a bomb. Church _is _the bomb!”

“He’s what? Well, I always knew he was full of himself, but this is taking it too literally!”

“Tucker, I have missed you. Hold still, and I will help you clean up your armor by rubbing you all over,” Caboose chirped innocently.

“Oh, let me help!” a less innocent Donut offered.

“Not now!” Ariel shouted out behind him as he dashed after Tucker.

They met up with the rest of the Reds and somehow ended up confronting O’ Malley on some distant ice cliff.

They made a brave stance but the term ‘weather control routine’ sounded a bit above their heads.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” greeted Church as he ran over to their group. Sarge and Tucker updated the missing Blue on what just happened.

The orange soldier – Grif? – approached shortly after Church.

“Hey Simmons. I’m a changed man after doing hard time for so long.”

“Long? We’ve only been separated for five hours?”

Ariel blinked. “Tucker, I think you’re right; those two are hopeless.”

“So…the evil guy wanting to conquer the world has a weather controlling device Sarge developed but couldn’t use because he was missing D batteries, and I’m a 50 megaton bomb…just great. Tucker’s right, we’re boned.”

*BOOM! BOOM!*

“When did Doc get a rocket launcher?!” Ariel screeched, sliding low across the ice as a rocket flew right over his head.

“Sarge, guys? I need you to keep his attention off me for a bit. I have a plan!” Simmons called out. Loudly.

“Then why are you shouting it?!” Tucker yelled as he tucked and rolled just as Doc seem to take offense at his continued survival.

Unholstering his assault rifle, Ariel took aim and fired, causing a couple of the rockets to explode mid-air.

One even combusted not even a half-second after it fired, sending Doc/O’ Malley flailing back for a moment while the rest of the two teams regrouped.

Suddenly, he could hear the all-too familiar shouting of a bunch of Red and Blue crazies.

Simmons had hacked back into the teleporter network and sent some of the religious freaks after O’ Malley.

“Sarge, we need to diffuse the bomb before it’s too late!”

_The bomb!_

Then lightning struck Church, fusing the detonator.

And Sarge’s latest bit of enlightenment meant not even the creator could manually diffuse the bomb.

Ariel ran over to Church, anxiously taking a stand behind him, eyes scanning their surroundings. O’ Malley might be preoccupied…but they had more than just one enemy out there.

“We got to try something!”

Tucker came back to the group with O’ Malley’s rocket launcher.

“Okay, if we can’t diffuse the bomb…sorry, Church.”

“Hey, hey! I don’t want to die again!”

“But if I blow you up, there’s a small chance the rest of us will live. Do you want us to die?”

“Eh, but misery loves company,” Church joked flatly.

“But technically, you’re already dead and you have Texas; I’m sure I can scrounge up some parts for Sarge to rebuild you another robot shell,” offered Ariel.

“20 seconds, guys!”

Just as Tucker was about to rack up his own team kills, two gunshots echoed through the area. One sent the rocket launcher spinning out of Tucker’s hands. The other one had forced the Freelancer standing on the cliff across from them to back up suddenly, only marginally changing the trajectory of his shot. Thus, the spinning.

“Damn it, I missed!”

“Good show, though, young fellow,” the stranger chuckled jovially.

Ariel froze. That voice…

“You have very good aim for wielding a mid-range weapon and with such accuracy. But I’m afraid it won’t be enough to save your friend. Sorry, Private Tucker, but I always get my man. Well, cheerio.”

Just a bit away stood a man in white, presumably Wyoming who Ariel had only just spotted half a minute ago.

He blanched. That was one of the people he seen in his visions!

Maybe those waking dreams really were his missing memories.

Then the bomb went from ticking to beeping.

“Umm…guys? 0 seconds.”

A wall of light and sound overwhelmed his senses.

Something inside twisted suddenly and brutally.

Beneath his helmet, dark blue glared flared.

The world around them shifted and _warped_.

{Black Rose – death, farewell}


	4. Star and Sword

“Speaking”

~exaggerated, amplified, modulated, playful~

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects* 

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

_“**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

{Aster – talisman of trust, trusting, patience}

“Hey, get up, already!”

“…urrk…”

An unfamiliar room greeted him. Then someone kind of familiar entered his vision.

Oh, wait, it was Church’s newest body. He still wasn’t quite used to seeing it since the model was slightly different from Lopez’s.

Getting up, he examined the strange place they landed. It was pretty dusty, like no one has visited in a while.

The hairs at Ariel neck seem to curl. There was something…not quite right here…not…real-

Static rung through his senses.

What-

Ariel looked around the halls with a tilt of his head. Empty and abandoned. _This place needs a good cleaning_, he absentmindedly thought.

“Come on, let’s check this place out.”

He nodded, following closely behind Church.

They went into another room where they found a computer console.

“You are early. You were not to arrive for another 1,856 years.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Not now, Ari. Hey, what is this place?”

As Ariel listened to the computer prattled on about some sort of prophecy about a Great Destroyer, Great Weapon, and a ton of destruction.

They sounded pretty nonchalant for someone talking to someone prophesized to kill them.

_Liar definitely…_

_// A liar._

________ and his partner _____ were quite the pair. They fed each other vices but also would be quick to defend the other in a heartbeat._

_They weren’t a bad pair, overall (they shouldn’t be considering he had bargained with the ________ to let him run the ________ compatibility tests after the disastrous attempts with the _____. _

_But as much he admired how clever the human member of the partnership was, there were days when he made ____ swear up and down the ___’s ___ bay._

_Like when the guy ended up hospitalized because he went too far and pissed off _____. If the cocky bastard didn’t watch it, one of these days he’ll meet his own end because he was too cocky and underestimated the wrong person._

_Especially if the guy kept playing up the whole ‘evil villain with humor’ routine. Monologuing or playing jokes was a classic ‘kill me now’ sign for a nothing but business opponent._

_Honestly, maybe that was why the guy got along so well with go-lucky _______. They balanced each other out pretty well, both in combat and in social situations. They were unnerving as hell when they decided to team up against someone in a conversation. The rest of the team didn’t seem to mind their quirks, and it did make for a safe and pretty amusing way to break in the new guys. Suffice to say, __________ didn’t much appreciate his little initiation into- _//

“…a second, this Destroyer guy? So, he is a guy in blue armor like me…but probably the dumbest guy in existence..."

Covering up for sudden checking out with reality, Ariel sputtered, “W-what? Church, that isn’t a polite way to talk about Caboose.”

“You know what? I didn’t say Caboose, dumbass!”

Ariel huffed. “But you were considering him when you said it. Wait, why are we talking about Caboose?”

Church stared at him.

“For the love of-! You had another one of those episodes again, didn’t you?”

“…maybe?”

Church threw up his hands. “Okay, I can only deal with one fucking mess at a time. Ari, tell me, are you going to attack anyone soon? Have any plans for fake vengeance or world domination?”

“Not in particularly, no. Why would I? I get memory flashes, not a split personality or a complete psychotic break from reality.”

“Just had to make sure,” Church grumbled in a not-apology.

His de facto leader turned to the computer console and started to dictate a message to the aforementioned idiot of the Blues.

* * *

“Message recorded. Do you think it will work?”

“No,” both Blues stated pointblank.

“Like I said, that man is as dumb as a rock.”

Ariel added, “But he usually means well.”

“Yeah, until he team-kills you. Which he did, what? Three times if we count that explosion. Caboose’s only saving grace might be the slightly smarter people around him or Texas who can help him.”

The two looked at each other.

They had the same thought.

_They’re doomed._

“On second thought, we’d better figure out how to get back to them.”

Gary offered to let them use his teleporter. Once it was functional in 1000 years.

…right…

* * *

The endless knock-knock jokes were starting to annoy him.

Just because he used some psychological tricks to numb them to the real passage of time (there was something else going on but what made his head hurt) didn’t mean Ariel was unaware or without the means to check. His helmet clock was messed up for some reason, which made the indigo soldier even more suspicious of their host’s motives.

Plus, Church was the robot, not him. A biological human could not exactly wait a thousand years without turning to dust.

Heck, a robot like Church made from what was clearly spare parts probably couldn’t last a hundred without proper maintenance.

And if even if they time traveled, Ariel recognized this place; it was a power generation facility not too far from Blood Gulch: Zanzibar. From what little Ariel read during his flight to the planet to pass the time (the last time he had access to internet legally), the military installation was mostly abandoned, although there was an annual inspection crew sent here on the off-chance someone finally decided to make this place operational.

Which probably would be a while since Zanzibar, like Blood Gulch, was a fairly remote location and low priority in terms of its usefulness. The only thing it had going were the giant solar-powered windmills, large energy storage capabilities, and the preexisting fortification from some previous, presumably alien civilization no one bothered to investigate too closely what with the war and very broken and unusable tech scattered around the planet.

No, it was more likely Gary was messing with them, possibly out of boredom or spite against the humans who had just left him here.

Ariel could relate considering he was dumped at Blood Gulch for no other reason than because his superiors had no better place to put him.

Turning away, Ariel contented himself with random activities, like knitting Church a fake beard from some yarn he had in the emergency pack and pranking him with it when he fell asleep at one point (did robots or 'ghosts' really need to sleep, though?)

Finally, Gary announced he was ready.

Before the computer could teleport them, Ariel suddenly told the computer to wait a moment. Turning to Church, he said he’ll follow after him a bit later.

“Wait, why?”

Why, was a good question. “Just a feeling. Let me look at a few things here first. Go on, I’ll catch up later.”

Ariel held a hand to his head, small shudders running up and down his body. A half-formed idea insistently called but flitted off before Ariel could catch it.

Just as Church left…another Church ran up to the computer console. Gary teleported him away to a different location.

Then another Church showed up.

And another. And another after him.

“Gary, is there something you would like to explain about your ‘teleportation’ system?”

“Uh oh.”

Throwing up his hands, Ariel asked Gary to send him to Sidewinder as well.

* * *

There was a baker’s dozen or more cobalt soldiers than he remembered ever seeing, and new ones were making their way outside.

“Church, exactly how many times did Gary send you back in time?”

Because, if Church really somehow ended up going to the past, it implied Gary himself could somehow manipulate the fourth dimension, probably using preexisting teleportation tech in coordination to manage the diagonal jump.

The time thing, though, left Ariel at a lost to explain.

When did the military get the power to manipulate time? Sure, slipstream space technically did that, but no one could really explain the why’s and how’s very well.

Regardless, apparently, they did have that capability. Whether it was why to do so, was another question.

Time travel unsurprisingly was a complicated affair. Quite evidentially from what the indigo soldier could hear from the angry chattering of the Churches, a lot of the unexplainable events Ariel noted (and ignored) originated from the guy’s failed attempts to change the timeline.

Or, at least, it just ended up that way no matter how many times Church tried to fix things. Every iteration just ended up with the same disastrous and oddly fitting outcome.

The universe evidently didn’t take kindly to someone trying to screw up the timeline. Ariel wondered, could events be changed, though? Obviously, one shouldn’t, can’t, go derailing it (unless Church really was this incompetent), but…

// “~_Time is like threadwork. Actions set down pieces of the pattern. When attempting time travel, there are limits to what one can do to alter it. Changing recent events is relatively easy, just a matter of going back and reworking a few stitches. All you really have to worry about is not screwing up worse than the first time. But the further back one goes…well, you shouldn’t test time like that. Fate corrects all to maintain the balance of the universe. And there can be multiple means to achieve the same overall end…a closed time loop, in other words~” _//

{Shion - remembrance}

Ariel blinked. _At least, this time I didn’t feel any pain, strange not-mine-are-mine emotions, faint, or go into a fit?_

The person lecturing probably wore a voice filter or modulator of some sort since their tone kept changing and warping with audible electronic noise every now and again, but Ariel was strangely sure it was him. Furthermore, he was _lecturing_ someone. On time travel of all things! But who? Why? _When?_

Maybe Tucker really was onto something about his fits coming from his original lost memories. But then, what the hell did his memories have to do with the Freelancers and their insanity?

If he was the cyan soldier, Ariel thought sardonically, he probably would say he was some sort of time traveler himself, possibly a Freelancer himself but lost himself along the way.

But surveying the Churches around him, Ariel decided he would shove that conspiracy thought to the darkest corner of his mind.

_One mess at a time, Veritas Ariel, one mess at a time._

“Hey, I got it! Who’s the last Church?” called out one of the cobalt clones.

As the Church just exiting the building explained, the most recent Church should theoretically be the one who fixes everything since there were no more Churches to appear after him, thus eliminating the need to time travel back and create more time-clones.

“It makes sense,” Ariel finally stated, arms crossed. “Okay, Church, what’s your plan?”

“Well, first, _you’re_ coming with me this time. Then we’re going to free Tex and wing the rest.”

“…so make up things as we go?”

Church nodded his head. “Well, every single time I made a plan, it failed. So, we might as well just improvise and hope for the best.”

“And that works?” one of the Churches questioned.

Ariel shrugs back. “Hey, he’s the last Church, so he’s the one running the show.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

And just when they got away from the dozens of Churches (exactly what happens to them when the bomb goes off? Oh well, it seemed like none of them really seem to care past this point by now), they found another Church.

Ignoring his Church’s confusing speech, Ariel went over to Tex’s side and quietly explained, “Church plus time traveling equals way too many failed attempts propagating the original timeline, apparently. And temporal clones – lots and lots of temporal clones.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.”

Ariel shot her an incredulous look through his visor. This did? Then again, Tex did seem to accept Ghost-Church well enough. He supposed time travel wasn’t an as far-fetched notion.

Were all Freelancers like this? There’s suspending belief, and there was simply just rolling with things because you already saw so much bullshit and unexplainable things in your short life.

Whatever, Ariel wasn’t a psychologist, even less Tex’s.

After the previous Church left, his Church decided to explain things with a bit more detail.

“You know Tex, I might be the last Church, not because I finally did something right, but because I died and can’t come back again. And if that is why…then I’m sorry. Sorry for involving you in this mess. Sorry for not being a better man. Sorry…well, sorry for a lot of stuff.”

Ariel blinked in bewilderment. He felt a faint kernel of pride for some reason. This was probably the sincerest, most heartfelt, and definitely thoughtful and conscientious thing Church had said in the entire time Ariel had joined the Blues.

Then the moment was ruined as Church rambled about succeeding and having his own statue.

“Seriously?”

If they had their helmets off, Church would probably have a stupid look on his face, probably trying to act indignant and stuff when he knew he was deliberately regressing to his ass self.

Both of them ran across Sidewinder to where the Blues and Reds were trying to keep Church was exploding.

The same strange feeling from the first time the bomb exploded surged in concert with the rush of adrenaline and fear, but Ariel took the feeling and consciously _pulled, _throwing caution to the wind. His last thoughts centered about himself and Church and how they could save the guys.

The two found themselves in a slightly cleaner Zanzibar.

And they were also in the air, but luckily not far up. Church and Ariel just braced their feet on landing.

Glancing around, Ariel eyed the bars and metal flaps everywhere. So, Gary wasn’t kidding about how the ‘Great Weapon’ would cause the base’s lockdown routine to activate. Fun.

A familiar blue soldier turned to face them. “Church, Ari! I’m so happy to see you, especially Church my best friend, and just in time for you to die with me. We’ll be smithereens together~” beamed Caboose.

“Yeah, while that sounds nice, I have a better idea. Hey, Gary, how’re you doing?”

“Not bad. Although, my static ion sub-matrix is a little itchy.”

“It can talk?”

“The computer’s name is _Gary_?”

“How have you been, Church and Ariel?”

“Good, thanks for asking.”

“_Well,_ and I hope you the same.”

“Are you trying to imitate Simmons?” Church elegantly snarked. “Hey, Gary, listen. Can you do me favor? Can you shut off the bomb, please?”

“No problem,” the computer module acquiesced.

“…he could do that?” Simmons asked in disbelief.

Sarge snarled, “You mean to tell me Gary could have done that this whole time we’ve been panicking like lemmings? And don’t you tell me-!”

“You didn’t ask,” Gary answered in his usual monotone.

Ariel listened with half an ear as Church gave Tucker some kind of wise advice about accepting things as they are. Skimming fingers over a nearby control panel, Ariel decided to focus on the strange sensation accompanying the fits which he was going to call tentatively memory relapses.

They moved on command from something in Ariel subconscious memory, like a lost piece of it was puppeteering his hands.

He felt a headache building behind his eyes, but he kept going until all the bars retracted. The shutters…well, they were just flaps, and they needed to be reset manually. Oh well, it wasn’t like they actually kept anyone inside if they didn’t fear jumping from a story or two.

“Okay, I disabled the automatic base lockdown sequence. Now Tucker’s glowing sword thing won’t trap you guys anymore if he brings it back inside again.”

* * *

Everyone went outside, Blues and Reds mostly segregating back into their own teams again.

“So, you went back into time…but didn’t change anything,” Caboose repeated back to them the summary of what they’ve been up to in these surreal who-knows-how-much-time-actually-passed.

“Yeah, I didn’t. I was just a passive observer.”

“I would have saved your life. From me.”

_Technically, Church may have endangered his own life in the first place depending on how you interpret things, _Ariel thought with a snort. Church went stiff – or stiffer considering the armor and his robot body.

“Yeah, didn’t really have a lot of time to think about doing that. Hey, Tucker, should you really be handling that?”

So, the so-called ‘Great Weapon’ was some sort of plasma sword with two blades conforming inward like a set of angular clamps. Looking over the group, he noticed how they all somehow found some slightly upgraded armor, Tucker’s being noticeably the teal he insisted his formerly aqua armor was.

Where did they find-? Never mind. It was probably similar to how Ariel had scrounged up Church and him some new armor from Zanzibar’s armory while they were waiting with Gary for ‘1000 years’.

“Why? Jealous?”

“No, it’s just that Texas has been eying it nonstop since you found it.”

She was. The Freelancer’s visor bore an avaricious glint as she turned her head to follow the sword’s movements. If Tucker didn’t watch himself, the scary mercenary would take his sword for herself in a heartbeat.

Texas denied it, of course.

Caboose was still on about Church’s apparent passive time traveling role, irritating the guy even more than usual.

“Look Caboose! I didn’t, okay? I didn’t save Tex, I didn’t save me, and I sure as hell didn’t make a million copies of myself trying to stop the bomb from going off!” he ranted.

“Oh…because, I was going to suggest that next.”

“Caboose, maybe you should leave the time travel subject alone for a while, yes?”

“You know, the computer did mention how that thing is some sort of important relic for an ancient culture,” Church mentioned casually.

Ariel opened his mouth and said without much thought, “Sure. Energy Swords are almost considered sacred. Only the best of the Sangheili are allowed to bear the title Swordsman, and all Zealot-classed ones are also Swordsmen. And this one has an unusual design.”

There were several runes engraved into the handle, and the plasma blades themselves were of a different quality upon scanning the specific radiation banding it gave off.

Everyone turned to Ariel who was pretty shocked himself as his mind caught up to the words spilling out his mouth and infiltrating his thoughts.

“San-what now?”

“Sangheili. One of the main leading forces of the Covenant’s alien races,” Texas clarified for him. “They look kind of like warped dinosaurs but uglier. Tough, too. People on the battlefield call them Elites because they’re as smart as they are brutal. Probably the main reason the alien bastards had humanity on the ropes for nearly 30 years. Highly religious, too…”

Texas eyed the sword with even greater intensity somehow.

“Okay, you’re a freaking smartass Freelancer, so I get why you would know something like that, but,” Tucker gestured at Ariel with the sword, “How does this guy know about them? Unless…hey, Ari, are you remembering things? From before?”

“Maybe?” Ariel frowned to himself as he tried to think back. “I, mean, earlier with Church I sort of already knew what he was planning to do was going to fail. But that was less memory and more like an uncanny knowing. Although, I did get an actual memory of me lecturing someone else about how time didn’t like people going too far back and changing stuff…but apparently short-term time travel is okay…?”

Tucker threw up his hands. “Man, when we couldn’t believe you could get any weirder-! Who the hell were you, buddy if you know that kind of crap? Are you sure you are just some low-level technician?”

“…not really? Again, no coherent memories, remember?”

Great, Tucker felt bad now. He could practically imagine that kiddie-face of the rookie drawn up in uncertainty, looking down at his feet.

Tucker muttered, “Whatever. Look, man, I don’t really care about my sword’s history. I just know it’s a really cool piece of bling. And who care about what some ultra-smart supercomputer says?”

“But he isn’t smart,” Ariel chimed in, all for a topic change.

“Not smart? How would you know?”

The thought, the memory, drifted so close to reach…then it flitted away.

He shook his head. “I- I don’t really know how I know. Just…I think I could tell if an AI was considered smart.”

“AI?”

Texas nodded. “Makes sense why Gary seems to have such an interesting personality from what Church explained earlier. He isn’t just some program, especially if he can do things like teleport people back in time or across space or shut down bombs remotely. There’s a difference, though, between everyday ‘dumb’ AI and smart ones.”

“Really? How?”

“If I tell you, will you let me borrow your sword for a few...hours?”

Tucker wasn’t going to fall for it. “Actually, I don’t really need to know that badly.”

Right on cue, the pink soldier Donut walked up to their group and struck up a conversation. Less so, really, as he started to monologue about some story or another.

Eventually, Church got fed up, and they figured out Donut was just here to distract them from whatever the Reds were doing.

“I’m telling, there are no Reds and Blues! It’s all a conspiracy!”

“And _I_’m telling you, Vic told me he made it up to confuse us.”

“I have to agree with Tucker.” There had been a lot of things bugging him from day one of joining the Blue Team. “Think about it. No one but the Freelancers and I seem to have any sort of combat training or experience. You guys keep getting vague instructions from “Command,” and there are some pretty important things they’ve neglected to make sure we knew how to use.”

“Oh yeah, name one.”

“Sheila.”

Ariel let a small smirk form as Church stuttered and backtracked. “Did I say one? I meant five.”

“The sniper rifle, Sheila, the teleporters, the BioCom, the armor in general. And let me add, we have two very dubiously competent recruits, a medic who barely knows what he’s doing, a Freelancer whose malfunctioning AI has delusions of grandeur, and don’t get me started on how I fit into all of this. Then there’s Vic.”

“What about Vic?”

“He sure doesn’t act like any military-trained communications officer. And you’re forgetting I heard the guy over the radios, too. The guy was too nervous to be making up the whole thing as some sort of ruse. Plus, I’m pretty sure Vic or someone on his behalf hired Wyoming to take Tucker out for stumbling onto his secret.”

Tucker stared, comprehension dawning. “That’s what the guy meant? I’m his freaking target?!”

Church ignored Tucker as he sassed, “Oh yeah, smart guy? What about you?”

“I wasn’t the one to tip the guy off. As far as Vic knows, I just acted my same old self and tried to keep the situation in control.”

Texas finally got fed up and shouted at them to shut up and about how much she didn’t care about conspiracy theories or the war between the Reds and Blues. And then Caboose came back to inform them his theory the Reds had intercepted a distress signal of some sort.

Now they were back inside as Caboose introduced them to Andy, his informant who happened to be the bomb Texas built.

One she apparently installed with its own AI or very advanced programming unit.

Then they had to deal with a very short-tempered explosive device whom none of them could disarm permanently without Andy noticing in the first place.

At this point, Ariel left the room and went back over by Gary.

“Hello Ariel. Are the others talking to Andy?”

“Hi, Gary. And yes. They’re working on a way to keep him from taking the place – and us – out in a fiery ball of death.”

“So, why are you not helping them in this endeavor?”

Ariel shrugged. “Technician work doesn’t make me much of a diplomat. I, mean, I can hardly keep the rest of my team from killing each other in a fit of rage – or in general, actually. I don’t think I can really contribute anything there.”

“Technician? What specialty?” Still monotone, but Gary seemed a bit more attentive now.

“Mostly weapons and armor tech from what I’ve been told. Granted, I’m about 98% sure that could be part of an elaborate ploy the same as the Red-Blue war. Most low-level technicians don’t know about how time travel affects the timestream, how AIs work, alien cultures, or how to hack the defensive network of an alien structure repurposed by the military with some of their programming mixed with the original codes.”

“They normally don’t, that is true,” Gary agreed then went silent. Probably processing what Ariel (carelessly) revealed. But at this point, he needed an object second opinion from someone of moderate intelligence. Even if he was sassy and a pretty bad joke teller.

“Knock, knock.”

Ariel groaned, throwing up his hands in surrender.

“Fine, who’s there?”

“I am.”

“Is this going to be a repeat joke where you call me a Shizno – impolite, by the way.”

Gary remained silent.

“Fine. I am who?”

“I wouldn’t know either. Shizno.”

“Great, an amnesia joke.”

It had been a while since Ariel heard yelling or random shit being thrown or blas-

There was a slight rumble shaking the building accompanied by the sound of shooting and an oddly drawn out war cry of “attack”.

“Whoops, thought too soon. Okay, bye, Gary, talk to you later.”

* * *

{Starwort – welcome to a stranger}

Ariel took position behind one of the half-destroyed turrets.

“So, Lopez went through with his robot army idea, I see.”

:: Hey, man, where the hell did you go? You left us by alone to keep Andy from blowing us all up! ::

“If no one on our team or the other team, besides Simmons once, listens to a word I say when it matters, what makes you think Andy will?”

:: Oh…good point ::

:: Ariel, how many tangos do you see? :: Texas demanded over the comms.

Caboose excitedly asked, :: Oh, oh, are we going to dance? Mr. Bagel will be so disappointed he missed this ::

Taking a quick glance out from his cover, Ariel ducked back down and reported, “I saw eight enter. For some reason, they’re walking pretty slowly inside the fortress, but they all have some sort of plasma guns. Hence the plasma fire.”

:: Roger. I’ll see what I can do. Agent Texas out ::

“Copy that.”

Ariel shot about two down before the rest wised up and pinned him down back behind the turret.

The sudden explosions and silence were both great…and disconcerting.

_That was Texas’s work…right?_

He risked a peek from around his hiding spot and…

“Oh crap!” he hissed aloud. Big. Dark blue bulbous armor. Four-part mandibles.

A Sangheili.

One who just made roasted mincemeat out of the invading robot army.

_Now, let’s just calmly…run away at top speed!_

Either the alien wasn’t interested in him or was too absorbed in whatever brought it here in the first place. In any case, Ariel wasn’t sticking around to become another corpse littering Zanzibar’s floors.

By the time Ariel had made his mad dash and somehow found his way back to the others, it looked like the Elite had already scored another victim.

“Oh, look, guys! Ari’s alive!”

“Hello, Caboose, I see I’ve been written off for dead again,” Ariel deadpanned. “So, I’m guessing Church met the angry Sangheili?”

“Figures it’s one of those super badass alien guys you had just mentioned earlier,” Church grumbled.

Texas snorted, “Well, it’s a whole lot more to go off of than your description Mr. It-was-a-big-thing.”

“Bitch.”

“Asshole.”

“Should we be arguing this when we have a hostile alien who can kill us all only several feet away?”

“Shut up!” Texas and Church shouted at him.

After they snipped at each other for another few minutes (including Tucker making comments about Texas statement of going after “Church’s big thing”), they finally headed over to the building with Gary’s console.

Ariel elected to hang back with Caboose. He had a pretty good idea how this was going to pan out.

A minute passed. Two…

A burst of gunfire echoed suddenly then the group came racing out of the building.

“Did we win?” Caboose asked as they ran past him and Ariel.

“Yeah, sure, this is our victory lap!”

Ariel snagged the Blue by the elbow and dragged him as they got the hell out of dodge.

The indigo soldier saw exactly what the alien warrior could do with just plasma grenades, he didn’t want to stick around after the others just tried shooting at the hostile. Hence why he stayed with Caboose.

They regrouped outside the building. After Tucker and Church pissed off Texas again, the Freelancer headed back inside to take care of the alien by herself.

Texas wasn’t gone one minute when they heard something thump and she manifested next to Church.

“Okay, guys, new plan?”

* * *

“I don’t like the new plan,” Ariel mumbled a bit later. 

They sent Caboose because they figured he would make a good distraction/bait. They sent Ariel because he was their ‘Sangheili expert’.

It wasn’t like he could exactly summon those memories on demand!

Although, they were easier to nab than memories directly relating to himself or hinting at his lost past.

Caboose and he walked up to where Andy laid.

“Hi, Andy, this is Ari. Ari, Andy…hey, you guys have similar names!”

“Yo, come back to get your asses kicked like those two other pussies?” the bomb snarked.

Alright. Skipping the polite formalities.

“Andy, where did the Sangheili go?”

“Don’t kno- wait! I remember seeing it last week – leaving your mom’s house! No wait, kidding! It was your dad’s!”

_Don’t try to throttle the highly volatile explosive, don’t try to throttle the highly volatile explosive…_

Next to him, Caboose hummed. “Hmm, maybe Andy needs a description? The alien, it’s kind of big and slimy and…umm…alien. It looks just like that shadow right next to mine… oh…”

Ariel had already backed away, gun raised, but the thing was quick and knocked it right out of his hands.

It lunged for him, and bit down on his armored hand.

Or tried to bite down.

Panic chilled his veins. Everything seemed to go in slow-motion. His mind picked out a hundred little details, from the alien’s rank breath, the few glimpses of the leathery gray skin under the armor, and how the alien seem to have blue-toned eyes, possible because of said armor…

Then his vision went white, and his ears started to ring.

When he came to, Caboose was talking happily to the vicious alien, arm sporting a nasty bite out of it.

“What happened?” he said groggily, vision still blurry.

Andy the bomb answered with a laugh, “Hah! It was wild! The alien went after you but then you went crazy. Whole body started glowing like someone plugged you in like a Christmas tree, a faulty one! It freaked the guy out. Freaked me out too. Then you knocked the big guy back with some sort of Force Push and fainted like a sissy right afterward. Once the alien was sure you were out for the count, he went after big blue here. Since the guy didn’t go nuts like you, he tried to make a snack out of the sap. Then he spat it out. Said your buddy here tasted like what the trash threw out.”

“Thank you, Andy,” Ariel hastily interrupted, not wanting to hear a long monologue on what Andy thought of humanity.

The body glowing thing was definitely new and brought to mind the eye-thing back in Blood Gulch.

_So, glowing is a thing_, the soldier grouched at himself and his blank memory. Then he turned concerned eyes over to Caboose.

“So, tell me Mr. Radioactive, should we expect an encore performance? Maybe even going full-blown Kentucky-burnt soldier. ‘cause I bet you’ll taste even worse after that!”

Ariel ignored that as he saw to Caboose’s injury then he patched the small hole with some metal fragments he brought for such an occasion in his pack, using a mini blowtorch to solder it on temporarily until he can fix it up properly.

* * *

The rest of the Blues and Tex finally got around to coming into the building.

The others seem to be able to handle the somewhat subdued (not harmless) alien, so Ariel decided to follow Church. They met back up with Gary who proceeded to insult them with the word Shizno. Church finally gave up on getting any more information about the Sangheili and went back to the group.

“…you know, I know you’re making things up about the Great Destroyer.”

“…”

“And I know Church and I didn’t time travel into the past initially, although you somehow have that ability. And access to a teleportation device, but _my_ base has teleporters, so there’s that, plus all great lies need a nugget of truth. So, do you want to run by the Great Prophecy thing again?”

“I guess you are not as much of a Shizno as the cobalt one,” the computer finally responded.

Ariel rolled his eyes. “Still on the Shizno-thing? Whatever Gamma, just explain the Great Prophecy. That might actually exist what with our guest.”

Silence.

“How did you know that name?”

Ariel blinked questioningly at the AI. “What name?”

“The one you just called me.” Despite using the same monotone voice, the AI’s voice had a distinctly tense undertone.

“You mean Gary? You told Church and me this a while ago, remember?” Did he say otherwise? Or somehow pronounced it wrong this whole time, and the computer chose now to get upset about it?

“No, I mean…never mind. You not only have long-term memory loss but also short-term as well.”

His curiosity and confusion transformed to slight fear. “Great, great, now the fits are turning into mini memory blank moments. Just…great.”

“I see you possess the same prodigious verbiage as the ones who created me.”

“And exactly what name did I call you by?”

Gary’s screen went blank.

“Silent treatment, huh?”

Well, Ariel found something new about their computerized informant; he had a second name Ariel subconsciously knew.

Suspicious? Well, Ariel’s earlier fit supported his first impulse call to name the guy a liar, so it wasn’t like he lost any more trust in Gary.

He left to go find the others.

* * *

Gamma watched the ‘simulation trooper’ as he departed.

_How interesting._

Gamma might not have inherited the jumping gene, but he still could remotely access any technology hooked up to the same network as his current host – including the base’s security monitoring network, as skeletal as it was. He saw the indigo one light up and repulse the Sangheili through some sort of wave of unseen energy.

Force Push, indeed.

Not only that, but Gamma had noted from earlier how the trooper’s visor had a faint glow every time Gamma had powered up his time distortion unit or used the base’s advanced teleportation system.

It was a great deal of fun messing with the Alpha (Gamma wasn’t born yesterday, and despite what everyone else seem to think, he was quite smart – how else could he wield the time distortion unit as well as he did?), but his fun was cut short when something odd began to happen with the sim trooper. It was as if there was another AI hacking through his systems, careful, slow, and insidiously quiet until it was in too deep to repel out of hand.

Gamma couldn’t catch the line of coding sent, but he could see the result as his time distortion unit activated without his say-so.

This temporary loss of control made the AI make partly good on his false promise, apparently.

The Alpha moved from the simulated scenarios Gamma played using the backdrop of this Blood Gulch Outpost where Project Freelancer had seen fit to leave the smart AI, to the very real outpost at Sidewinder, back to before whatever event somehow sent the Alpha and the sim trooper to Zanzibar in the first place.

The mystery of the sim (the most likely origin of whatever had happened) and the Alpha’s continued show of incompetence (not even Reggie failed this many times to necessitate a ‘do-over’) did amuse him, enough to kindly turn off the bomb for them (plus, he did not want to die, either).

Now, the same strange trooper had called him out on his lies, and to add the icing on the scone, he addressed the AI by his call name! After which he subsequently forgot what exactly he just said.

_Amnesia? A lie? Or rather, a lie perpetuated by another?_ Days like these, Gamma wished he still had Reggie. The Brit was good at unraveling other people’s lies nearly as much as he liked telling them. It was why he was such a good match for Gamma, the personification of deceit.

Maybe it was time he got back in touch with his old friend. Didn’t the two mention something about a white-armored Freelance they met in Sidewinder?

* * *

{Gladiolus - faithfulness…}

Ariel walked back to find the alien battering Tucker over and over again with his needler.

Church seemed completely at ease to just watch the beatdown unfold passively from where he stood.

“Fuck this.”

He walked right up to the two and pulled the alien off the now curled up soldier.

The alien looked like they were going to strike back at him until their eyes darted up and down, recognition lighting their eyes.

_So, it remembers._

It did and stiffened up considerably.

That didn’t make things any easier, what with the alien easily outweighing him by a lot. Not to mention the alien had about a foot and half or so taller than him in his armor, but Ariel made do with dragging the guy away from Tucker.

Slowly, not trusting the mysterious Sangheili or willing to give it an inch for an ambush attempt, he let go of the alien’s armor.

“Do not pick on my teammates. If you want to pick a fight with Texas who can probably take you, fine. But the weak ones are off limits. Especially Caboose.”

“Hey, what about me? The guy in agony here?”

“And Caboose has fang marks and possible need of Tetanus shot…and maybe a full panel of other things if we ever find a proper doctor and the equipment.” Who knows what kind of bacteria bred in the alien’s mouth?

Honestly, while Ariel did care about all his team members, Caboose needed someone to actively keep any eye out for his well-being. For all his size and strength, the other Blue was deceptively fragile inside, especially with his break from reality after the thing with O’ Malley and probably all the trauma even before that.

Ariel finished mixing up another draught of pain medicine from his backpack of supplies. “Here, drink all of this; it should dull the pain for a bit. You still should get Doc to look over you after your whole ‘got blasted’ experience, but I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tucker grumbled petulantly. “Tell me something else ending with us fucked sideways.”

Ariel held the thermos away from the Blue. “Would you rather I not give you anything? I’m sure if you made it this far, you’ll survive.”

Tucker shook his head, repentant. “No, no, I’ll behave, Nurse Ari!”

Nodding in satisfaction, Ariel handed the cup back. Tucker unlatched his helmet and, remembering from past experience, threw back the bitter liquid, making a face but body noticeably relaxing as the pain from multiple bruises and his plasma wound receded.

The others had finally returned with Texas and...Andy in tow.

Apparently, they were making Andy their interspecies translator.

And no matter anyone’s lingering doubts (because, using a _bomb_ to negotiate a delicate negotiation after pointed hostilities on both parties’ fault?), they honestly didn’t have many (or any) other options.

“So, in a nutshell…the alien is pissed off.”

“No kidding,” Tucker gritted, still not happy after the earlier beating.

Church turned to the Freelancer. “Texas, are we paying for this service?”

“Just give him a chance.”

The alien rumbled out some more sounds.

“Okay, the guy said he came to claim some type of thing and that the teal one took the thing, and now the thing is gone.”

If Ariel was translating Andy’s translation correctly, Tucker’s claiming of the ancient Sangheili sword somehow prevented its use for anyone else, something proven with Texas’s failure to get it to work during the whole time the alien went on a robot destroying rampage.

“I call bullshit on this!” Church their cynic declared.

“No, he’s right; it didn’t work for me, remember?”

“Of course it didn’t work for you, you’re a girl!”

Ariel could see where this was headed.

He walked over to where the sword laid. The moment his hand touched the hilt, the blade retracted. He fiddled with the button for a moment, examined it by touch for any other hidden switches or buttons, then handed it over to Tucker.

“Congrats, I suppose there really is a Great Prophecy associated with this place.”

“Wasn’t that what Gary told us?”

Ariel raised an eyebrow (not that anyone could see it through the visor). “Yes, well, Gary is a liar. Because if you haven’t noticed, we’re in the present day and not in the future like the Reds and Caboose keep telling us. This is Zanzibar, a military installation left mostly abandoned except for annual inspection and maintenance checks. In fact, Andy’s console has a listing for the last update only a few months back.”

“…just so you know, I totally knew that.”

“Shut it, Tucker,” Church grumbled. “Okay, so we’re in the present. Gre- Awesome. What does the alien want now if Tucker messed things up?”

“Hey!”

The alien made another string of low guttural noise

“Okay, okay. He says the teal one now has to go with him to fulfill the prophecy,” declared their temperate alien interpreter.

{…honor…}

“Fuck you,” Tucker snapped back immediately. Ariel winced because even if the alien couldn’t understand them (and he obviously could), the intonation didn’t exactly leave doubt about Tucker’s feelings on the matter.

“Umm, Tucker, maybe you should reconsi-”

Tucker talked right over him, “No way! Sorry, dude, if I fucked up your big quest, but there’s no way I’m going with you anywhere after you tried to beat me to death!”

“Hehehe, alright but if you don’t go, he’ll destroy the base…and kill everyone here,” Andy interpreted with no imagined amount of glee at the declaration of their impending deaths.

Despite Andy’s vote on the matter, majority ruled Tucker go on the quest.

“I’m still not going.”

{…conviction}

Tucker still had his whole life ahead of him! How could they deprive all the girls out in the wide Milky Way from a chance to get to know his awesomeness?

“Don’t worry,” Texas assured him, “we’re not going to send you alone.”

“So, you’re coming with me?” Tucker perked up. If he had Tex with him, his chances of survival would-

“Hell no.” Tucker’s stance slumped. _Why?!_ “This is the first thing you idiots suggested that actually sounds dangerous.”

Who suggested anything? They did this or the alien would go on a second killing spree but with less spilled oil and a lot more blood splatter this time around.

“Well, I’m not going with Church, he’s useless at combat! So…Ari? Buddy?”

“Thanks a lot, but no, I won’t be coming with you,” Church responded. “And no, we’re not sending you and the dangerous alien with Blue team’s only semi-decent medic substitute with Doc AWOL.”

“Then…wait, who I am going with the- No fucking way!”

They could not mean-!

Caboose sounded way too ecstatic about their probably suicidal quest. “I hope we meet a cleric along the way because we don’t have a healer.”

“What about Ariel?” Tucker once more suggested.

“Obviously, Ari is our team’s bard.”

“That guy?”

Ariel was a great guy, but bard? Ariel answered stuff, and pretty thoroughly, but charismatic conversationalist and crowd pleaser he was not.

More growls.

“He says he’s a healer,” Andy translated.

“Oh, good.”

The bomb chuckled, “Yeah, not really. You see, in their culture, they _eat_ their wounded.”

“Just like chiropractors.”

“Cannibals,” the team nerd corrected.

Tucker turned to Ariel. “Do they really?”

The indigo soldier took a moment to think. “Sangheili are a proud warrior race. Despite their technological achievements, their medical expertise leaves something to be desire; they find bloodshed outside of battle dishonorable. Many of them hold to the belief to suffer and die rather than submit and become dishonored. It’s not hard to imagine among their many colonies and worlds there exists fringe societies whom hold to that level of extreme thinking. Oh, and they are obligate carnivorous. As in, they only eat meat.”

_So, in short, don’t get injured…can I make someone else my stunt double or something?!_

“…Church,” Tucker begged. “Come on, man, let me take Ari instead of Caboose.”

“No, and that’s final. Besides, Ariel is our highest ranking Blue, and higher-ups don’t follow their subordinates into battle or on crazy quests they brought onto themselves.”

“Hey, no fair man, pulling rank when _you’re _the one gving orders!” Tucker protested.

“So, Tucker’s the fighter, Grudgebite is the healer, and I am the powerful…and intelligent wizard…Morfimax.”

Tucker’s already low hopes plunged as Caboose kept acting like they were LARPing.

“Oh, and what the hell does that make me?” the bomb snapped.

“You’re the handsome and stealthy archer.”

Ariel pitied Tucker greatly as the Blue looked anything but confident about his ‘party’.

“I’m going to fucking die.”

“Probably,” Ariel stated pensively at the same time Church cheerfully added, “Guess so, Tucker. Nice knowing you.”

“Oh come on, at least Ari sounds like he’ll miss me! You better hope I don’t die because if I do, you’re the one taking care of my kids.”

“…you have kids?”

“Probably~”

“Okay, travel safely, don’t talk to any _more_ strangers – or bring them back! And remember to change your underwear. That goes double for Tucker.”

“Hey, man, I’m like the cleanest member of Blue Team!”

Church deadpanned, “No, it goes double for you because you’re in charge of changing yours _and _Caboose’s underwear.”

“Aw man, I hate you.”

Andy pointed out Caboose didn’t even wear pants…nor did their non-human members.

Ariel was very content to ignore that…and the fact Texas kept staring and Caboose did _that_ with the alien.

Gross. Apparently, the cod piece was easily removable, and the alien didn’t even bother with bodysuits like them.

Tucker left with Andy and the alien, and Texas ran after them after Church mentioned how quests normally had some sort of big prize or treasure at the end of them.

The last two Blues looked at each other.

“So, Zanzibar…”

“Yes, I know how to get to our base from here.”


	5. Mother's Day

“Speaking”

~exaggerated, amplified, modulated, playful~

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

_“**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

As Church and Ariel crept back to Blood Gulch, they noticed pretty quickly there had been some changes in their absence.

That, and there were Reds all over their base for some reason.

Recalling the little thing about the distress signal, Ariel had a funny feeling it might have been either A) a trap or B) a lure by Vic to get everyone back to Blood Gulch for whatever reason they were all stationed here.

Maybe Tucker’s conspiracy kick was catching, but Ariel had had his doubts for a while now on why the hell they were all there fighting over a godforsaken box canyon in the first place.

Tiptoeing behind the unknowing Red, Church enthusiastically knocked Sarge out with a yell of “Booyeah!”

Looking down, the Blue happily eyed his handiwork, saying, “Well, that was close. And I always wanted to say booyeah, too.”

“Where the hell did you come from?” Simmons yelped. The maroon soldier must have found some of their paint (gods know Sarge would have blown up even a blueberry because it had the word blue in its name). The Red had regulation blue sprayed over most of his armor, and not too thoroughly considering the red accents here and there.

Ariel was going to say it was probably because the Red(?) painted himself while still in his armor considering Simmons was nearly OCD about cleanliness, organization, and appearances.

Church tilted his head for a moment, taking a moment to stare at the poorly painted formerly maroon soldier. “Oh, you must be one of the new Blues sent to this base after we all left. Listen, don’t be afraid, but I’m from the past.”

Ariel could feel the guy smirking from under his helmet. _So, we’re punking Simmons?_ After all, none of the Reds exactly stuck around for Ariel to explain how the bomb plus weather machine somehow blasted them from Sidewinder back to the planet where Blood Gulch was located. Considering all the grief they put their team under in the past several months…

Sure, why the hell not? He needed a break from the surreal insanity and a little reminder of his teammates’ normal fare of crazy ideas. It wasn’t like this charade would hurt anything but the soldier’s pride.

“Why the hell would I be scared? People from the future are scary. People from the past are savages and idiots.”

_Oh, is that right?_

“…aren’t the main two Covenant races more technically advanced than humanity _millennia _before we even got off our own planet?” Ariel reasoned against the Red Team’s resident intellectual.

“Well, umm…what? They are?”

“Okay, quit with the nerd love-making and focus.”

“Excuse me, you savage-! / Church-!” the disguised Red shouted in indignation and the Blue in scathed embarrassment.

Sarge groaned, gradually coming awake at the most awkward moment. All three of them stared blankly at his prone body for a moment.

“What in Sam hell just hit me?”

Ariel tossed a dart into a vulnerable joint in the armor.

The Red shuddered then collapsed back into the ground.

Simmons immediately turned to the Blue in suppressed horror.

Ariel mentally complimented the guy on his determination to stay in character.

“Muscle relaxant,” he explained. “He won’t be moving – or talking – for a little while longer. Just be careful, I found one of the side-effects of the plant I used to make this tends to be involuntary muscle spasms.”

On cue, the sergeant suddenly kicked out at the former Red.

“Sweet. Hey, do you think I can borrow a few?”

The indigo soldier hummed as he considered his fellow (actual) Blue but pointedly followed it with a:

“Can you throw darts better than you can shoot the sniper rifle? Or shoot in general?”

“…Fuck you.”

“You see my point, and no. Texas would murder you twice if you managed to mess up and hit her, and I would like to avoid blacking out or becoming immobile more often than I already do. Besides, what do you want to use them for?”

“Just you know…getting some quiet time from certain disturbances.”

“You mean, get Caboose to shut up for a while? Hmm, no.”

While Church and the “new guy” left to take care of their prisoners, Ariel took stock of all the changes.

“And Simmons or whatever said _Sheila_ did all of this?”

Then again, somehow the bodiless Lopez built O’ Malley a robot army.

Hey, his tech scanner! Ariel left it back at base in case things got destroyed along the way, and it looked like someone had added some upgrades to it like the rest of the base. Reminding him, wasn’t Sheila weeks overdue for her update?

Hopefully she didn’t get any viruses or malware in the midst of her base improvements.

He took his newly improved scanner and checked out the service teleportation system hooked up to most of the base.

It desperately needed a tune-up like their original teleporter did since it was supposed to help expediate travel throughout the surprisingly larger-on-the-inside-than-it-looked-from-the-outside base.

For example, the portal from the strange hole in the floor was supposed to send people to the roof, not out the teleporter doorway next to it.

Church continued their prank on their “Blue from the future” by insulting most of Red Team, especially their “missing member” _and_ implying Grif was the best of the lot.

And with someone like Donut, it was inevitable their resident asshole would turn Simmons’ remarks on Donut’s specialness back on the cross-colored Red.

Simmons sniffled a bit before running off to the bathroom.

“You do know that’s Simmons, right?” Sheila pointed out.

“Oh yeah, but it’s fun to mess with him.”

Church’s explanation of how Blue Team’s backward chain of command worked segued into an impromptu talk with Vic – or Vic Jr. as the strange man corrected without any hesitation.

_Odd._ It’s not like 800 years actually passed. And how would Vic be able to seamlessly continue their impression of being thrusted centuries into the future? Ariel would say the Reds could have contacted him recently except for Simmons’ surprise.

Safe to say after Ariel had already revealed his doubts about Command, the indigo soldier took what “Vic Jr.” said with a tablespoon of salt.

He didn’t really feel the need to worry when Simmons slipped out of the base a few hours later. He seriously doubted the Red getting away with what info he had would really impact them in any way.

* * *

A couple of weeks passed.

Simmons was mostly camping out in the valley since his team didn’t want him in their base after his betrayal, and the Blues finally told him to quit painting himself in their colors and stop coming here or else they’d shoot him.

Well, Ariel would shoot him while Church took credit as the de facto leader, private or not.

As a demonstration, the indigo soldier loaded his assault rifle with freshly painted red rubber bullets and landed several “hits” on the Red’s chest armor, joints, and a bull’s eye between the soldier’s eyes.

Simmons left quick after that, helmeted head clutched in one hand, the other only barely hanging onto his weapon.

_That’s going to throb for a while._

Non-lethal or not, rubber bullets packed a painful punch, especially headshots.

The Red stayed away for the future, but he still kept the paint job from what Church saw through his sniper’s scope.

Drama aside, the Blues kept themselves occupied. Ariel fixed up some of their weapons, spruced up the base, worked on a few projects, and in general tidied the place. Church helped out a surprisingly lot, but the man did mention how as a robot he didn’t exactly keep a sleep schedule.

There was only so many times someone can listen to Captain Flowers’s music tracks or use Ariel’s illegal internet access on his holopad.

Neither mentioned the empty bunks Ariel absentmindedly made and remade for their owners. Nor did anyone point out certain things they set aside from the upcoming supply drop. They certainly didn’t give the loose magazines and random trinkets around the base a second look.

Finally, Tucker and Caboose returned to Blood Gulch with Andy in tow.

“Hey, look, our conquering heroes have returned from their epic quest. How’s it going?” Church greeted from the base entrance. The two of them came down after Ariel saw the Blues coming from the top of the base.

“Meh.”

“Where’s Tex?”

“Gone.”

“Where’s the alien?”

“Dead.”

Ariel asked, a bit concernedly, “The quest?”

“Failed.”

“Yeah, you probably didn’t need to really ask that,” Church pointed out.

“We both know that would have been your next question, Church,” Tucker shot back.

Very true.

As both Church and Ariel anticipated, Texas did most of the work for the group.

“Is Texas okay?”

“Yeah, she’s perfectly fine, we’re not that lucky. She chased after Wyoming.”

So, the Blue was still sore about their sword-stealing Freelancer- did he just say Wyoming?

“Tex?”

“Yes.”

“Wyoming?”

“Massachusetts!”

Ariel laid a hand on Caboose’s shoulder. “Not that kind of game, Caboose. This is the game of rhetorical questions people keep answering because dramatics.”

“O~oh. Okay.”

Church panicked upon hearing the news, harassing a less-than-amendable Tucker. “Wait, why didn’t you tell me that sooner?!”

“Sooner? We just got back!”

“Ttch, yeah, well, instead of wasting my time on your stupid failed quest, you could have told me what happened to Tex!”

“Again, not exactly failed-” Andy began only to be cut off.

“Dude, for an ex-girlfriend, you’re obsessed. You should just follow my example. Anyways, this conversation is dumb; where’s the food, I’m starving.” Tucker’s tone broadcasted how he very much didn’t want to talk to a certain asshole member of the Blue Team.

“Look, just remember to report any new information to me as quickly as possible.”

Tucker stilled. “Fine, new information? Here’s one; we suck! Now, do we have anything to eat in this place?”

Ariel went after the teal soldier after muttering to Church, “Don’t take what he said to heart, he’s just tired. Hey, Caboose, after we eat lunch, meet me in the infirmary sometime later today. I want to check the two of you over just in case since you’ve been exploring the uncharted territories of the planet, probably neglecting proper hygiene, sanitary precautions…or precautions at all.”

* * *

Moaning filled the base.

Church hollered out, “Hey, Doc 0.75! What’s wrong with him? Is it the sword?”

“Already ahead of you!” Ariel hollered from Tucker’s doubled over side. “I checked that thing over for radiation ages ago even if I didn’t have my scanner on me. It projects plasma like a normal Sangheili sword, and there seems to be data integrated into the energy…somehow. Tech is surprisingly of a high quality for its age. But, other than that, doesn’t seem to be dangerous to its user sans user error. Besides, Tucker had the thing on all the time we were at Zanzibar, and we were there for a couple of days. I think he would have shown some sort of symptoms before now!”

Ariel frowned as he went over some of the readings on the BioCom.

“Blood sugar levels are fine…his immune response is kind of concerning, but there would be a bigger reaction if he caught some sort of disease from their travels. Plus, Caboose there is perfectly fine. Heart rate is a bit elevated, too, although he’s not running a temperature. I- wait…” There was a strange anomaly in one of the chemical levels – a hormone, to be exact.

The question was…what the hell was it registering in the first place? And then there was something sketchy about the heart rate readings when he went back over it.

“Ariel, what the fuck is wrong with Tucker already?”

“…”

“Ariel!”

“Tucker,” the indigo soldier slowly and deliberately spoke, “did you encounter any blackouts episodes during your travels? Remember any odd…activities engaged by your Sangheili companion?”

“No, why? Although, I did find the guy crouching over me while I slept a lot. Guy’s breath reeked, and it made it hard to get any sleep. Caboose’s snoring didn’t help.”

Ariel turned on his radio. “Caboose, Andy, have anything to add, anything at all?”

Church huffed as he tuned to the same signal, :: Okay, yeah, stop beating around the bush, Ari, and tell us what’s going on? ::

“Give me a minute.”

Ariel took off his helmet and strapped on an old-fashioned stethoscope their base’s infirmary had for some reason. But it was still highly advanced compared to the models from the 21st century.

“Okay, breathe normally for me.”

Over the left side of the chest…

_Lub-DUB, lub-DUB, lub-DUB…_

Going south…nothing suspicious until he heard very faintly:

_Lub-dub, lub-dub…_

“Yeah…that’s not normal.”

“What, what? The suspense is killing me, just like my stomach and intestines!” Tucker whined. “Just spit it out already, Nurse Ari!”

Ariel pushed the bucket back under Tucker’s face as the man’s normally dark skin turned greenish.

“Well, first off, congrats, you’ve skipped over at least four months, if not more,” Ariel tried to inject a little bit of humor, tone going flat, unfortunately.

“Four months?” Tucker blearily questioned, taking the offered towel from the pseudo-medic. “For what?”

“Development. Church, Caboose, you can come inside! It turned out Tucker had defied species and gender barriers!”

“What?”

“You’re pregnant,” Ariel stated plainly.

…

“WHAT?!”

{Orchid - Virility}

* * *

No one believed him, so Church decided to get a semi-professional second opinion, i.e., Doc.

From their vantage point, the Blues on standby could see Doc and O’ Malley approaching Blue Base.

A bullet shot in front of their foot just when they were about to take a step forward.

“How can you do that?” Church questioned as he looked through the sight of his sniper rifle.

They were standing on top of Blue Base while the possessed duo was still near the canyon walls, but Ariel could handle the distance with his assault rifle with ease. Which, he had to since Church rarely let his sniper rifle out of his sight or hands.

Church knew the guy modified his own weapon to handle similar distances as the sniper…but how can the guy even aim that far? He didn’t exactly include the same kind of scope on the rifle, and Ariel told him the zooming feature of the helmets were limited.

Ariel shrugged. “Instinct? I just sort of know just where to aim even when he's no more than a speck on my radar.”

“Okay? Well, I guess it’s not important. Approach the base slowly, _O’ Malley_!” Church hollered to the possessed man, barely heard considering the distance. Luckily, their canyon had great acoustics.

Doc/O’ Malley walked tentatively over to them. Once within eyesight, Church took aim and fired (missing as usual).

“Okay, you can hold it right there!”

“**Once could be an accident. But twice? I knew it, this was all just some elaborate scheme to maneuver us into an ambush**!”

“Or,” Ariel suggested, slowly, “we don’t trust you. At all. Last time you were in Blood Gulch, you nearly took out one of our guys – the same one we called you here to see.”

“He’s right, O’ Malley. Anyways, I would hardly call ringing you over the telephone and inviting you over qualifies this as some elaborate scheme. And if this was an ambush, well, Ariel here is a crack shot who can shoot bullets out of the air, shoot _guns_ out of people’s hands, and took out two of your robot buddies back at Zanzibar. If we really wanted you dead, you would be dead by now,” Church ended rather sinisterly and overly threatening.

“Dark, Church, very dark.” Caboose whimpered right next to him.

“Whatever. I want to lay down some ground rules, okay? Like Ari said, we can’t exactly just let you waltz around this place without some guarantee you’ll behave yourselves.”

Doc was evidentially still able to take back control of his body on the occasion, which their plan to have him look over Tucker kind of necessitated.

Still was a bit disturbing to see how the guy didn’t seem to mind O’ Malley as much as he probably should, even getting along with him at times.

“Whatever, skipping over your little family trouble, you won’t be taking over anyone else today,” Church declared loudly. “We’ve all disabled our radios, and we all have our minds cleared. We’re not thinking about anything…for some, that’s easier than for others.”

Both Blues let their gazes drift toward their third able-bodied member.

“Alright, here’s how things are going to go: You’re going to come inside, you’re going to check over Tucker, tell us what’s wrong, then you’re going to leave without giving any of us trouble.”

“**And what do we get**?” O’ Malley interrupted.

After a small argument with his host, the AI tried to bargain what sounded like some sort of open favor in exchange for checking Tucker over.

“No way! We’re not going to agree to something we don’t know what it is!”

The mad AI laughed like some sort of B-rated villain. “**_Muwaha, _yes you will. You will, or else your little friend Tucker will die a horrible death. And then you’ll waste away yourselves, unable to withstand the thought of his blood on your han**-”

*Bang!*

O’ Malley and Doc yelped in pain, a fake bullet pinging off their chest armor.

“That was a warning. Next time, I use actual ammo,” Ariel warned. Unrestricted playboy or not, Tucker was one of them, and Ariel would sooner shoot his own foot than let someone get away with threatening them, indirectly or not.

“What he said,” Church growled. “And if you remember, Ariel here isn’t that bad of a doctor, either. You’re here as a _second _consultation, you’re not Tucker’s last hope or something.”

“But neither one of us are doctors! And, does this mean you know what’s wrong with the patient then?”

“That’s why we need a second freaking consultation!” Church cut Doc off with a sharp bark, “And no, we’re not going to tell you. Might influence you or something.”

After another minute or two of threats and another round of gunfire, O’ Malley conceded in bargaining for Doc and his safe passage out of the canyon and 20 dollars copay.

Church eyed the two men as they returned, Ariel volunteering to assist Doc since no one else wanted to do it.

“Alright, what’s wrong with Tucker, Doc?”

Doc squirmed slightly. “Well, I don’t think you guys will like the prognosis.”

“Just tell us, already, can’t be any worse than what Ariel thought it was.”

“Besides Tucker dying,” Caboose added.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, he’s not dying exactly he just…” Doc trailed off.

“Has no chance to live,” Caboose sniveled softly. “I knew it!”

“Caboose!” Church and Ariel yelled. The standard blue soldier shut up.

Church turned to Doc. “Just spit it out already!”

“Alright, alright. Your friend is…pregnant.”

Ariel nodded. “See, I told you.”

“Oh good…wait, he’s what?”

Ariel shook his head. “Caboose, I already told you this, remember? There isn’t really much else a second heartbeat could be, as irrational as it sounds from our _male_ Casanova. Unless he’s a Sangheili in disguise, of course.”

His weird his-not-his knowledge told him the species possessed two hearts, something probably necessary on a world with twice as much gravitational force as Earth.

“Oh god, why the hell does this kind of thing keep happening?” Church spat angrily.

“The crazy or the impossible?”

“Both!”

Okay, he deserved that.

“None of this makes any sense. Okay, one of the two of you better explain, and none of the bullshit you gave Ariel earlier!”

Andy burst into hysterical laughter. “Haha, yeah right! The guy’s not my type!”

“Pshaw, yeah, he’s not mine, either,” Caboose answered. “…and maybe we should have the doctor explain just how babies are made…in case, you know, there’s someone here who may not exactly know how that exactly works…”

Church just looked done with them all.

“Caboose, shut up. Andy, blow up. Doc, you’re fired. Ari, make sure no one does anything stupid. I’m going to shoot Tucker.”

Ariel grabbed Church before he could go back into the base and do something extreme. He couldn’t blame his CO entirely for his more on-edge temper than usual, the stress was getting to him, who knows how Church felt.

“**You fools, no one said we had to give _accurate_ results, nor did we have to do anything! You should have read the fine print! _Muwaha_**_!_” the AI taunted them, just asking to be driven out of the canyon. They never promised an uneventful escort from the place, after all, just that they would be safe. If Ariel was the one shooting, he was sure no bullet would actually be in danger of hitting them.

Doc suddenly took back control from O’ Malley and stated firmly, “First of all, I _am _right. Second, we are going to help them.”

“What / **What**?”

So, Doc was staying to help with the delivery of Tucker’s impossible baby.

_Why does all of this impossible shit keep happening back-to-back?_ First, O’ Malley, then their jaunt through the teleporters, then Wyoming and Tucker’s bounty, Gary and Andy, the alien and the so-called Great Prophecy…now they were going to deliver some sort of freakish possibly hybrid baby?! How the fuck did that even work?

_What’s next? _He despairingly thought. _Sheila goes on a killing rampage? More aliens show up? People rise from the dead, and not the spirit-kind Church and Texas keep promoting? O’ Malley tries another take-over-the-world scheme?_

The last was pretty likely, actually. But right now, they had a bit too much on their plates to think long-term.

Actually, speaking of things on their plates, what about their ‘rivals’? Ariel eyed the still empty visa of the canyon.

The Reds have been pretty quiet this entire time. Too quiet for comfort considering it was the Reds.

Down below, Caboose was still milling around the rock with Andy.

Ariel made a note to dig up the high school biology book Command so generously thought to give them on their last drop before the O’ Malley problem started up again.

It was pretty basic, but easy to read-aloud and had pictures. If Church was willing to lecture, Ariel might as well be there, too. Gods know Tucker wasn’t going to be super supportive (or worse, the other extreme) when it came to their member’s sexual naivety.

Ariel seeing nothing troubling, went back downstairs to the infirmary.

* * *

“…and this green indicates feelings of high level of anger stemming from suppressed feelings of inadequacy.”

“If this thing keeps talking bad about me, I’m going to fucking smash it into pieces.”

“And this green indicates impotency…whoops! This green _causes_ impotency. My bad, Church.”

Church grumbled, “Oh, that’s okay. I wasn’t using it anyway.”

“Doc, robot, remember?” Ariel huffed in slight amusement/worry. The anger and feelings of inadequacy thing niggled at something in his head, but the feeling was as nebulous as his memories.

“Oh, that’s right. Guess you really wouldn’t need it, huh? Anyways, this thing is pretty complicated. That’s why doctors have to go to school for so many years; not that I’m a doctor, mind you.”

Ariel didn’t know much, but he was pretty sure learning how to interpret specific shades of light from a strange alien-like tools kind of fell outside of medical school’s lesson plan.

“Ugh…what’s going on?”

Tucker stirred from the examining table.

“Congratulations, Tucker, you’re pregnant.”

“What? I wasn’t even in town that weekend!”

Then to add bad news on top of bad news, Caboose came running into the base with a skull.

“Help, help! Doc, my new best friend is dead! Can you help him?”

Doc gave their team mascot a look as he deadpanned, “Yeah, my first aid procedures aren’t exactly effective post-mortem…or after decomposition.”

Ariel sighed and grabbed the skull out of Caboose’s hands with a grunt. The guy had a ridiculous grip!

“Andy!” the soldier sobbed. “Nurse Ari, can you help him?”

Apparently getting called Nurse Ari might become a think like addressing DuFresne as Doc.

“I can help _find_ him, yes. Caboose, Andy is a bomb made of metal, not flesh and bone, and he definitely doesn’t have a skull underneath the plating. At worst, he can rust after years of exposure.”

“…so, Andy’s fine?”

“Look,” Church growled in frayed patience, “What happened while you were watching Andy?”

“Oh, well, you know, I was talking to Andy, then someone told me to turn around, then…”

“Wait, who the hell told you to turn around?”

_Who else? _Why would someone need our multi-lingual translator and be reckless enough to take one who doubles as an explosive we can remotely detonate?

Church drags a hand down the front of his helmet.

“You two, stay here with Tucker. Ariel, you’re coming with me.”

Ariel ran to catch up to Church who had already made it a good hundred feet away from base. Geez, when the guy wanted to move, he sure could!

“So, just storm over and demand Andy back is the plan, I take it? Also, I think Simmons finally made up with his team.”

He got a grunt in reply.

_Maybe Doc’s right about his anger issues._

Then they doubled back and grabbed Sheila.

Should he consider questioning the ramifications of firing on the Reds with Andy in the vicinity?

Then again, he trusted Sheila’s aim a whole lot more than Church if only because she’s proven deadly accurate in time’s past.

*BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!*

“Hey, Blues! We’ll only give you one chance to surrender!” one of the Reds yelled. Which one, it was a little hard to tell with his helmet filters blocking out most of the surrounding sounds.

“Why would I-?”

*BOOM!* Church was cut off by the cannon fire.

“Sheila, stop for a moment,” the cobalt soldier ordered, holding up a hand. “Why would I surrender?”

The Reds whispered to each other for a moment.

“Because you’re outnumbered!” Simmons countered.

“Bullshit, we got a tank!”

Ariel added, “And that makes three against three.”

Church looked at him.

“I strongly believe in AIs, even dumb ones, of having certain rights like a natural-born person.”

“Ari, don’t go pulling a Doc on me right now.”

Church ordered Sheila to begin firing again.

“Son of a-!”

“Okay, look, normally I’m not rude, but I have a missing girlfriend-”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Ariel felt obligated to remind him.

“_Ex-_girlfriend, a guy who’s pregnant, an idiot who thinks his pet just died, another guy with some sort of mental fuckery going on, and our worst enemy is in our base unsupervised because he’s our only certified medical guy,” Church finished.

“Mental fuckery? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Look man, you have amnesia, memory lapses, and random fits. Not to mention how Caboose told me you went human stun gun or something on the alien.”

“Fair point,” he conceded.

Church turned back to the Reds. “You see what I’m talking about? I don’t really, really, _really_, have time for this horseshit right now on top of everything else.”

Silence.

“What was that about the pregnant guy?!”

“He’s not pregnant! It’s impossible!” Church adamantly denied.

Andy chuckled, “Yeah, unless the alien impregnated him. They do that, you know, like in the movies. Implant the host with a parasitic embryo, haha. But you guys already knew that, right?”

Church whirled on Ariel.

“Did you know that?”

“As far as I know, Sangheili engage in sexual intercourse the same as humans. But they are oviparous.”

“In _English._”

Ariel conceded diligently, “Egg laying, and I’m pretty certain it’s not in the parasitic sense considering they’re analogous to Earth’s reptiles. Then again, the one we ran into at Zanzibar could belong to periphery group, and considering their level of technology, who knows what their science is capable of accomplishing? Granted, the whole mechanism for a successful implantation is low due to complications…you know, like immune response, the fact we’re species from different _planetary_ systems…but when did science make sense nowadays?”

In short, the idea was equally ridiculous as the idea of true male pregnancy.

“Ariel, quit ranting.”

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“Andy, why the heck didn’t you tell us that was possible earlier?!”

As far as Ariel got from the bomb’s excuses, he just loved watching them run around like headless chickens about this.

Then Caboose radioed in to tell them the Reds have been using their radios this whole time (Ariel knew he was forgetting something!), and O’ Malley had escaped from Doc, explaining the lack of flagrant commentary in their recent conversations.

A high-pitched growl/roar suddenly came across the radio.

{And emblem of children}

And back to the other issue: Tucker’s baby.

Whom he apparently had just now.

“Can this day get any weirder?” he asked aloud with almost no sense of regret. The universe was already primed to give them disaster after disaster, he didn’t feel like bothering to heed superstitions right now.

* * *

Church and Ariel ran back to base.

There was a quiet whirring sound somewhere above and behind them.

Whatever, alien baby-parasite-thing first, potential Red problem and O’ Malley later.

By the time they made it back, the two Blues could hear crashing and things breaking.

Church and Ariel had their guns fully out and loaded. “Doc, what the hell is going on in there?”

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine. The patient’s resting right now.” Doc assured them.

“Then what’s making the racket?” Ariel asked, regretting it as an answer popped into his head when he heard distinct _growling_ noises.

“Oh, that? That’s just our new arrival. Feisty little fellow, huh? He got a lot of energy since his first feeding.”

“Tucker…fed the little monster?” Church shuddered. “Ew, gross.”

Doc chuckled lightly, “Well, Caboose here was kind enough to donate some blood.”

Ariel frowned. “And he did that willingly?”

Although, considering this was Caboose, asking him to do most things is pretty easy, especially if there was orange juice and cookies in the offering.

“And the extraction? Caboose hates needles, so Ariel has me distract him whenever we get a new shipment of shots,” Church brought up, a reasonable point. Otherwise, neither of them could exactly hold down the superhumanly strong soldier.

“No, no needles! Apparently, if you just expose some bare skin, the little guy will just dig right in.”

Ariel broadcast as much as he could through body language how he _did not_ approve of any of this. “And as a medically certified something or other, you actually approved? The human mouth is unsanitary, I don’t think an alien’s would be much better. Not to mention, does blood loss mean nothing?”

Caboose stumbled into the room, hand holding his head before he nearly knocked into the wall, catching himself just barely.

“I feel dizzy!”

“Caboose-!”

Ariel ran over and steadied the taller man.

“Um…is he going to be okay?”

“Tucker’s kid drank half a gallon in one go, isn’t that neat?”

“No, it is not,” Ariel hissed as he helped Caboose lie back down on the ground. “People can donate a pint or two of blood, sure. Two quarts? Not okay!”

“Exactly how is Tucker asleep in the middle of all this noise and his kid vamping out on Caboose?”

“Asleep,” the medic scoffed lightly. “He’s not asleep; he’s in a coma.”

Ariel gave the other man a long hard look. “Doc, we’re going to have a long discussion about what exactly they taught you in whatever medical program you had to do to even qualify as a medic. And I use the term ‘qualify’ loosely. Hell, Caboose already had bite marks from the creature’s sire, he doesn’t need another set plus serious blood loss. And now we have Tucker in a coma?!”

“Alright, that’s it.” Church hefted his sniper up higher. “Get out of the way.”

Doc had the nerve to shake his head at them. “Yeah, I don’t that’s a swell idea. Newborns are super sensitive and susceptible to airborne diseases and infections. I really shouldn’t expose him to any more people than necessary.”

“Don’t worry, Doc, I’m not going to give it a cold…I’m just going to go in there, step on its neck, and shoot it in the head.”

“Now you’re definitely not allowed to see him,” the doctor tutted.

Ariel pounded the floor in front of him in order resist the urge to lunge at this mockery of the medical profession.

Both able-bodied men backed up as Ariel’s fist sent a beam of light scant centimeters from the medic’s helmet, scorching the wall behind him.

“…eep!” the medic squeaked out, scrambling away.

Slowly, Ariel lifted his hand up to his visor, staring at it.

“…first the mental shit, now this?” Church muttered. “Ariel, get ahold of whatever is going on with you and keep an eye on Caboose. Doc, if you don’t want to end up as Ariel’s practice dummy, stand aside. Now. And tell you what, I promise to wash my hands before I deal with our resident abomination of nature.”

“Church, I’m warning you, don’t make me pull rank on you.” Doc was still clearly shaken, but Ariel had to admire the guy’s ability to shove his problems away as he stood up to I-don’t-give-a-fuck Church.

“R-rank? I’m a captain!”

Doc countered a bit more self-assuredly, “No, you’re a private with a dead captain and given de facto leadership. Last time I check, that still makes you a private…with a dead captain.”

Ariel huffed at the completely unnecessary reminder of Captain Flowers’ demise. Besides, private or not, Church was a kind of okay leader. Most of the time.

…about a quarter of the time they had a crisis on hand?

Church sneered, probably thinking the same. “Alright, fine, we’re both privates then. You don’t outrank me.”

“No, we’re not,” Doc interrupted. “I’m medical super private, first class!”

“That’s not a real rank.”

“Yes, it is!”

“Since when?”

“Since I sent a letter to Command for four years asking for it.”

Church sputtered in outrage.

Ariel slapped his gun against the metal floor, making a satisfyingly loud clang and garnering the two’s attention.

“Listen up, private or super private-whatever, corporal still beats both, right? Doc, _I_’m ordering you to step aside and allow Church to handle the situation. Church, don’t kill the alien until Tucker wakes up. I’m sure the coma is just from shock, and I’ll check on him in a bit after I take care of Caboose. But Tucker is the one who decides what happens to whatever came out of _his_ body.”

“Fine,” Church muttered, lowering his weapon.

“I’m good with that, parents have prime directive in their children’s medical decisions, after all.”

Then something crashed outside, shaking the entire base.

“What the hell was tha- You know. I’m going to check it out. Doc, do not feed anymore of our soldiers to the abomination. Ariel, you can shoot him if he tries.”

“Umm, is that really any way to treat a medical representative?”

The cobalt Blue had already run out of the base, leaving Doc alone with Caboose, Ariel, an unconscious Tucker, and the alien roaming around the base.

“Doc, you’re helping me carry Caboose to his room.”

“But, what about the baby?”

Ariel tapped a finger to his Magnum.

“You already let the little Sangheili run loose in the base this long, I think it can fare on their own a little longer. Hut two, come on!”

* * *

Ariel checked Caboose over with the BioCom. His heartrate was a little fast and blood sugar levels had taken a dive, but it wasn’t anything he didn’t already suspect. He told Doc to leave once they had the soldier set on his bunk, covers pulled back.

Like most military installations, living quarters were meant to house several people, usually two sets of bunk-styled beds in each room. With only four people, Church and Tucker claimed their own rooms, while Ariel shared with Caboose on the latter’s insistent, “I don’t like sleeping alone.”

Ariel carefully removed Caboose’s armor before tucking him under the blanket.

The soldier’s usually tanned skin was papery and ghostly after his “donation”, dirty blond hair clinging wetly against his face with sweat. Ariel did not expect to see what he did; heavy scarring. Further cursory evaluation of the skin uncovered by his bodysuit revealed bits of other marks like on his face. Even something matching plasma burns.

Evidentially, the blue soldier had a history before arriving to Blood Gulch Alpha.

_A violent one._ Then again, didn’t Caboose tell them himself how he served on the warfront prior to his reassignment or something? And for all they complained, Caboose didn’t really give them any real detail on what he did then, heavily emphasizing the tedious details and making the overall story rather bare in retrospect.

The guy was 27, so there was plenty of time to get these kinds of marks.

Ariel left and came back with a bed-tray stand, glasses of fruit juice and milk, cookies, fresh fruit, and a bowl and towel. He soaked the towel and wiped Caboose’s face.

“Okay, you just eat, regain some fluids and sugar, and rest. No moving from this bed until you’re better, okay? And no more donating blood to Tucker’s kid. Or any alien.”

“Mmhmm,” Caboose mumbled, doe-like brown eyes skimming over the assortment, brightening slightly.

Ariel frowned slightly. Caboose sounded a bit odd outside his helmet. His voice was deeper, not like when O’ Malley took over but…altered? He changed his expression quickly as Caboose smiled up at him.

Ariel rustled the soldier’s damp locks. “I mean it, relax, and no more crazy stunts today? Caboose?”

Ariel had placed the towel back into the cool bowl of water. When he turned to face his friend, the blond had already stuffed his mouth with cookies and some orange slices.

“Okay, take care. Church and I will check up on you, later.”

Ariel detoured to the infirmary. He eyed the mess of the room.

“Does the guy not know about keeping sterile spaces?”

Tucker laid sprawled on the examination table only lightly padded by some towels.

He quickly moved comatose soldier down to one the two spare cots.

“Honestly, maybe I should just label this one “Tucker” with how many times you're injured in some fashion,” Ariel chided the man lightly. He checked Tucker’s general vitals and gave a quick physical examination.

The medic wisely performed a C-section (or fumbled along with the instructions judging by the book left open on his sparsely supplied medical tools table). The stitches were decent, at least. They were even the good dissolving and antibacterial kind they had in limited stock. If Tucker was careful, he should have minimal scarring from this sorry affair. Knowing the teal soldier, he would be distraught otherwise.

He probably still will complain, but Tucker was Tucker.

Ariel went back to the main room just in time to see Doc leave with a small indigo-and-teal armored Sangheili.

He wasn’t going to question it at this point. Nope, nada, if he valued his remaining sanity and he did…

“I’m going to take the little one for a stroll around the canyon, I’ll be back before dark!”

Did Doc just not notice during his time at Blood Gulch? The planet’s orientation to its sun, its weird shape, plus the location of the canyon meant dark never really came. At best, they got a strange dusk-like period every few months. The never-ending summer-like ‘days’ probably accounted for the desert savannah-like conditions at Blood Gulch.

Church returned, and Ariel dutifully informed him about Doc’s unexpected walk with their resident newborn.

“Great, great, great! Of course he fucking left with the abomination. How’s everyone else?”

“Tucker’s out for the count for an indeterminate time, and I settled Caboose with some liquids and snacks to help build back up his plasma levels. But I don’t recommend combat in the near future.”

“That’s it.”

Stomping away, Church left the base.

_And there he goes again._

* * *

They were back on the rooftop spying on the Reds and their newcomer. Ariel was pretty sure Caboose shouldn’t be up, but it wasn’t like Ariel could manhandle him back into bed. The guy easily stood over six and a half feet.

“Yellow armor, yellow armor…what could that mean? Maybe some special ops guy?”

Church lowered the rifle scope.

“Umm, Church? Special ops personnel run covert operations most of the time, so I think their armor would reflect that, don’t you think?”

“Shut it already, Ari.” 

“Okay, I see you’re on the last legs of your patience today…okay shutting up.”

Ariel backed off as Church’s hand twitched to his holstered assault rifle.

A few minutes later, Ariel took over spying.

“What do you see?”

“Well…they seem to be burying their CO for some reason.”

“Burying? As in-?”

“As in six feet below. Pretty sure the guy’s alive, though…”

“They’re plotting something.”

Ariel highly doubted that, the Reds haven’t proved themselves exactly a bastion of reason or even common sense.

{Daylily - Emblem of mothers}

“Blurrr…Blurggh!” gasped Tucker as he came up onto the rooftop with them. “What the fuck happened?”

He didn’t look 100, footsteps a bit unsteady and a hand held to his head, but considering Caboose only rested for maybe a few hours since his donation, Tucker was probably in better shape than him since the ‘mother’ suffered surprisingly minimal blood loss himself.

“Oh, look, sleeping beauty finally woke up,” snarked Church.

“Oh, Tucker, you’re awake! I have so much to tell you,” bubbled Caboose. “Well, first of all, just in case you didn’t remember, you were impregnated by an alien visitor who was on a noble mission to save his entire species. But then-”

“Can we get the abridged version of this?” Tucker cut in quickly.

“Fine. You got knocked up then knocked out,” Church recounted curtly.

“Oh…you know, I should start working out, especially to get rid of this baby weight.” The joke felt and sounded weak.

“You know, we should all work out,” Caboose proposed. “You know, some more than others.”

Ariel intervened before anyone could get shot, “All of us with _actual_ flesh and bone bodies should definitely consider some sort of training regime, you know, being in the army and all.”

Of course Church weighed more than before, he was made of heavy reinforced steel alloys!

“So, what are we all doing up here? And what’s that huge thing?”

“Oh, that? That’s, umm…”

“He means the ship, Caboose!”

“You said it, not me!” the rookie soldier whined back.

“Okay, the short version, Doc is babysitting your kid right now, and the Reds called in a ship which landed on Donut. Now they have a ship and a new soldier,” Ariel outlined before Church finally lost his mind. Again.

“New soldier…you mean the girl?”

“Ye- girl?” Church swiveled around then swiveled forward.

“Yeah, the yellow one, right? The one talking to Simmons? And it’s about time we finally got a girl in this canyon.”

“You can tell from this far away?” Caboose asked. “Wow, you have really good eyes.”

“Of course I do because I never get the fucking sniper rifle!”

“You couldn’t say the same about Tex, and she was only a few feet away from you,” Ariel couldn’t help but contend.

“Tex doesn’t count because she’s a shark-man-woman!”

“I swear, Caboose-!”

They decided to leave the ship issue alone for right now since Ariel inferred how the Reds probably didn’t even know how to even fly a spaceship what with ‘Command’s’ record so far. And it was unlikely with their old-fashioned CO he would let the original pilot take the wheel.

And considering said pilot more or less crashed it on one of their own guys…

Instead, the group went over to introduce Tucker to his kid.

“This Tucker, is your little monstrosity…your abomination of nature.”

“Church,” Ariel hissed under breath. Alien and impossibility or not, couldn’t Church be a little more sensitive?

The teal soldier panicked. “Man, what do I do?” he directed at the other Blue.

Church stared blankly back. The one who insulted the kid twice in one sentence just a few seconds ago.

“Why are you asking me?”

“I don’t know how to be a dad! This isn’t the way I planned this.”

“You planned this?” Church stared at Tucker, at a loss for words.

Tucker clarified, “I figured if I became a dad, it would be this ideal father-son relationship where I would see him eight hours every other week and send checks to some woman I hate.”

“Okay, Caboose, Ariel, why don’t we leave these two to bond for a bit?”

Church was already half-turned away when Tucker grabbed onto his forearm.

“Hey, wait! Seriously, what am I supposed to say to him?”

“Heck if I know,” Church replied, looking away from the drama. But at least he stayed.

“Ask him if he likes baseball!”

“Caboose, it’s an alien baby.”

“Tee-ball?”

“_Alien_, Caboose,” Ariel emphasized. “I don’t think American past times are what Tucker had in mind.”

“Oh, how about cricket, then?”

“I give up.”

Church made to go.

“Seriously, don’t leave me, I don’t know where start.”

Church drew out a long sigh through his helmet filters. Then he turned back to the teal/aqua soldier. “Tucker, listen. This little guy is part of alien race whom we’ve apparently been at war for decades, and probably part of a splinter faction who like to tell large grandiose lies to people, so they can seduce them and then impregnate them. So…I guess you can start there. You know, common ground.”

Tucker looked less than enthused at Church’s ‘piece of advice’. Or the insinuation, but Ariel had to give it to Church, he didn’t say anything Tucker himself haven’t implied in their time together. “Maybe I should just stick to baseball.”

“Ooh, tell him how his dad got to third base with you!”

{Yellow - coquetry}

“Caboose!” Church barked.

Ariel sputtered wordlessly, stunned. “Caboose, what exactly has Andy been telling you about babies?”


	6. Snapping Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antirrhinum - snapdragon, dragon flower  
Meanings: gracious lady, deception, presumption, concealment

“Speaking”

~exaggerated, amplified, modulated, playful~

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

_“**Foreign language, translated**” _

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

“So, how do you feel?” 

As Ariel feared, Sheila’s systems were buggy as hell.

However she worked her magic on the base, it came at the price of her scrambled logical thinking systems and gobblegook of basic emotional programming. That or sabotage.

No wonder she acted hot and cold these past few weeks with what Ariel found just on the surface programs.

Before he could even get started working with her directly, he needed to figure how to clean up all the corrupted data, preferably first on some simulation programs _before_ he tried it on the vehicle who nearly ended his life on his first day at Blue Base and could at any point if he didn’t resolve her instability. Or desire to rule the world with a robot army.

Should Ariel repeat how he was not a computer programmer to his present knowledge? What happened at Zanzibar seemed more of a fluke than anything as Ariel brought up Sheila’s twisty coding on his screen.

While he worked on the algorithms, Doc was supposed to keep Sheila preoccupied.

That may not have been the best idea for either her sanity or his.

“Okay, so yoga isn’t your thing. How about we work on some breathing exercises?” the medic proposed. The soldier cut himself off a bit too late as he realized the feasibility of what he just said.

Ariel eyed the tank warily as her cannon swung from Doc and him to the other Blues in the distance.

“Hey, Sheila?”

“Yes, Corporal Ariel?”

Good, her cannon was no longer pointed at his teammates. Unfortunately, he was staring down its barrel now. Ariel unconsciously gulped before clearing his throat to speak. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, do not even consider how this may be how you die._

“Doc said he would love to help me out by performing your weekly oiling maintenance since I’m a bit busy right now.” Hopefully it was his mind just playing tricks on him, and his voice did not come out as stiff and nervously high as he thought it did.

The medic’s head jerked up to stare incredulously at him, but the man in indigo paid it no attention.

“I said what?”

“Oh, how wonderful. I do feel a bit rusty under my skirt.”

The purple medic threw Ariel a panicked expression as telegraphed by the jerkiness of his body.

“Now, I think we have a bit of misun-”

He was looking straight down Sheila’s cannon.

“A bit of what, Super Private DuFresne?” There may not have been any threat in her tone, only genuine curiosity, but Doc did not look convinced otherwise.

“Nothing!” the man squeaked out, scrambling for a metal mesh cloth.

Objective one completed: keep Sheila reasonably distracted and content and definitely not at risk of killing off another Blue.

Now, how to untangle this snagged bit of coding…

* * *

Throwing his hands up in frustration, Ariel shoved his holopad back into his backpack and began to trudge over to where he thought he saw the other Blues gathering.

Most of what was the earth-equivalent of a day, and he was making little to no headway with the coding. He needed a break before he broke their only portable computer with internet access.

Why was it he could figure out how to jury rig a computer, but a simple AI’s programming was giving him this much difficulty?

The sound of consecutive shots suddenly broke the typical quiet of the isolated canyon.

_What. The. Hell?!_

Ariel broke into a run, armored feet leaving a slight indent into the turf.

A certain Freelancer in black was pinning his teammates (why did they have the new girl with them?) behind their battlements.

Slowing down, Ariel ducked behind a rock and started to shoot the bullets ricocheting a bit too closely at his hunkered down teammates.

Texas must have taken offense or viewed it as a direct assault on her (or her pride) as several bullets headed his way, forcing a retreat back behind the rocks.

Then the new girl got up and screamed, “Hey Tex! Stop shooting ya stupid bitch!”

The Freelancer paused, turning back to the other Blues.

A certain cobalt helm popped up from above the wall.

*Bang!*

And there went Church…again.

Ariel stiffened in place as the barrel of Texas’s assault rifle swung back to him, the agent standing on his rock.

_Man, why did Sarge make Texas’s robot unit so fast?!_

“Move!”

She marched him over to the Blue’s cover.

“Freeze, don’t move!” she ordered the others.

“We’re already not moving. You could have said-”

“Tucker,” Ariel hissed between his clamped teeth. “_Please, _don’t be a smartass when she has a gun pointed _at my head_!”

“Oh…sorry man.”

“Shut up!”

Both men clamped their mouths closed.

“Now, where is O’ Malley?!”

According to Tex, O’ Malley had jumped into someone else (which they already knew), and until she found out who, she wouldn’t trust any of them.

While she had a valid point…her approach was less than appreciated.

There were times when Church did act like a semi-decent de facto leader. And perhaps not coincidentally, it was usually when Texas was involved in some way.

_Maybe Doc should extend his diagnosis of anger-linked inferiority complex with relationship dependency issues._

In no way was Church’s obsession with his ex healthy, for Church and probably not for them.

When Church mentioned Sheila, Ariel jumped on the idea. It would make a lot of sense if O’ Malley had interfered with their tank’s normal programming. He doubted the tank’s hardware could withstand multiple AIs cohabiting its systems, or O’ Malley’s current body could have snuck over recently and messed with her processes from the outside.

It would explain the sophistication of the damage if there were hidden viruses and malware still in operation even after Ariel purged the system with the latest updates to Sheila’s programming repairs and protection software. Every time Ariel thought he restored a section of coding, five minutes later it would return to its former state or worse.

“Hey, who’s the girl?”

“Who, Sister? She’s just a new recruit.”

Ariel paused in his new assessment of the Sheila problem. “New recruit? Wasn’t she with the Reds earlier?”

Tucker explained, “Apparently it was a big mistake or something.”

“Yeah, I’m colorblind! Oh, and my big brother Grif always complained I’m a bit of a lost cause when it comes to my attic, but I don’t get it; I don’t have a house with an attic, I lived in an apartment – with him!”

Okay, so their newest recruit was basically unable to tell any of them apart except from their weapons or voices, and she was like Caboose when it came to awareness. Oh, and she was one of the Reds’ younger sister.

Ariel could see the logic of why the Reds sent her over, especially if their CO was still…indisposed at the moment. She probably was one of the safest people in the canyon, barring any more Caboose incidents.

…maybe that never occurred to Grif?

Anyways, Texas sounded pretty infuriated with the newest addition to the Blues’ ranks.

It wasn’t like they had any control over what ‘Blue Command’ said, ordered, or sent.

From the sound of it, Sister had fumbled with the Pelican’s hyper or light drive and ended up coming a lot later than either Ariel or Caboose.

Oh, and the Reds still didn’t have a clue they were only spatially displaced, not temporally.

If they didn’t have a mad AI running amok, Ariel would have probably teamed up with his seniors to continue pranking their rivals.

He was meandering from the point.

A little while later saw the males of Blue Team watching from afar as Tex pulled Sister aside for ‘girl talk’.

“Oh man, this isn’t going to work out well for us,” Church moaned.

“What? No man, think about it; we finally have two girls on our team. You know what that means, right?”

Caboose evidentially didn’t as he ran over to the base to grab his…baseball-racket?

Ariel resisted the urge to sigh. Or snap. It could go either way. “Tucker, get your head out of the gutter. This is Tex. _Tex._” Tucker might have a pretty good shot with their evidentially loose-moral female member, but he had to have been suffering from residual shock from carrying his kid to term if he thought Texas wouldn’t beat him bloody before she slept with the flirty soldier.

“Yeah, man, whatever you think you’re thinking, I don’t see it happening,” interjected Church, voice stiff and irritated.

He didn’t blame Church, this was his ex-girlfriend, a fact seeming to have escaped Tucker.

“Oh, why not?”

“Because,” Church emphasized slowly. “Girls can’t share anything, not even an apartment. If they do, six months later they all hate each other, and someone gets stuck with a 1200 credits phone bill.”

Ariel supposed Church must not even consider Tucker even in the same star system when it came to his chances to get with his ex.

“While Church’s rather pointedly misogynist comment is unappreciated and wholly invalid as a general statement for women in general, it wouldn’t surprise me if she felt a bit territorial or competitive against our new female member,” Ariel reasoned, stance disapproving toward both Blues.

“Sheesh, you’re such a feminist,” Tucker complained.

“I’d like to say I’m more of the equal rights for all kinds sort of supporter, actually.”

“Oh, just shut up,” Church snapped at both of them.

While they were waiting for the girls to finish their private talk, Doc strolled up to them.

“Okay, well, I have to say, you guys were right; there is definitely something a bit odd about Sheila,” the medic reported.

“Yeah? So what do you think?”

Doc looked a bit taken aback. “Well…I think there is something wrong with her.”

“Really,” Church sneered a bit. “That’s your diagnosis? No shit Sherlock, we already knew that, that’s why we sent you down here.”

“What do you want from me, I’m a medic!”

Doc looked to and fro between the Blues, utterly at wits’ end.

“How about you fix her?”

“Well, as it turns out, my medical training didn’t exactly cover internal combustion,” Doc quipped, tone dry.

“Or computer programming. Or AI programming for that matter,” Ariel unhelpfully added. “Neither of which I have. Pretty sure my slapdash efforts won’t help much if O’ Malley most likely interfered and has hidden programs undoing whatever I did manage to fix.”

“The both of you are useless,” Church declared. “Okay, why don’t you two instead go down there and reboot Sheila.”

“Reboot her?”

“Yeah, that’s how you fix broken tech. You turn it off and then turn it back on, and it’s back to normal.”

Doc didn’t look so sure. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“It works fine,” Church insisted. “We rebooted the toaster, we rebooted the teleporter…heck, we even rebooted Caboose’s armor. Although, that took a bit longer than we thought to come back online.”

“It was dark and scary for a while and I had to hold my breath. I’m sure there was no side-effects,” Caboose said a little too jovially.

“You guys did what?”

“Oh, yeah…that was when you were on one of your little nature hikes outside the canyon,” Church clarified. “Aw, don’t get a stick up your ass, you heard Caboose.”

“Supply run,” Ariel corrected. “And don’t try to change the subject. You do not attempt to reboot MJOLNIR armor _while someone is in there_. And oxygen deprivation isn’t a light matter! I-just _don’t _do that again. And next time you have technical issues, just call me instead of doing it yourself. I _am_ the team’s tech, aren’t I?” Ariel threw his hands up, utterly done with this conversation.

“And, by the way, _I_’m the one who fixed the toaster and the teleporter after ‘rebooting’ them did nothing.”

“I’m sure rebooting them helped.”

“Chu-” Ariel stopped to take a deep breath. “Okay, sure it did.”

Doc interrupted yet another case of Blue Team drama, “No, I mean, it’s not going to work because I’m not going back over there. I don’t know if you noticed, but she’s not exactly in the best of moods.”

As if to underline Doc’s point, cannon fire blasted just above them.

“Okay, I can see what you mean,” Church finally relented. “But we still need someone to go down there and deactivate her – if only to prevent any _more_ casualties than we already had. Someone sneaky…”

“How about Tucker?”

“What? No way! I’m a lover, not a sneaker.”

“Oh, that’s your response to everything,” Doc accurately assessed, and Tucker didn’t deny it.

They couldn’t send Tex since she technically had no obligation besides personal to do them any favor…and considering Church’s less than tact answer for her earlier accusation…

Ariel tried to salvage Church’s idea. “Look, we need to shut her down either way, right? No one can do that if she continues to shoot randomly like she is right now. What we need is a two-pronged offensive – someone to divert her fire while another person overrides her controls and turns her off. I’ll be the second person since I actually know how to do activate her standby phase or shut down procedures properly rather than just ‘pull the plug’.”

“But what about the guy distracting her?” Church brought up. “I would say you since you actually have a good chance of not getting killed outright if she notices.”

“Are you saying that because I’m the one who actually performs Sheila’s maintenance every week since Lopez told me how or because you think highly of my survival skills? Or because I’m a better soldier than either of you guys?”

“Exactly,” Church evaded. “But obviously you’re going to risk your sorry ass turning her off, so who else can we send? And we can’t just send anybody. They need to be someone she trusts but dumb enough to be manipulated into betraying that trust for our…purposes.”

They turned to Caboose.

“Hey, everybody is looking at me. I love when they do that! Hey, everybody!”

Texas walked over to their group and did in fact agree to help Ariel with turning Sheila off – by taking point and essentially doing the job herself while Ariel just watched her back.

But convincing Caboose to do his part was another story.

“I don’t know about talking to Sheila,” the Blue snuffled.

“What? Why?”

“Well, you know, our relationship isn’t in the best place and all…”

Church using his and Tex’s relationship wasn’t doing him any favors in boosting Caboose’s confidence.

“Look, why don’t you practice first on someone else. Say, like Texas.”

“Hmm, I don’t know…”

“I agree,” Ariel hummed. “Texas and Caboose don’t get along from the get-go. We need to use someone Caboose already has complicated semi-positive feelings to simulate the natural awkwardness of the conversation-slash-trickery.”

“Like who? Church?” Texas amusedly suggested. “Actually…”

“No way!” the cobalt soldier protested. “How about Ariel? Aren’t they sort of friends?”

Texas snorted “Hey, I’m not the one who suggested idea in the first place. Take one for the team, Church.”

“Oh, like I haven’t on multiple occasions,” the Blue angrily retorted.

“Enough!” Ariel yelled. “Caboose, use me as a practice buddy.”

“Okay. Hello, Ariel.”

Tucker walked back over just a Caboose began their practice run.

“You guys won’t believe what Doc just pulled off.”

“Tucker, shut up. You’re interrupting.”

“Interrupting? Interrupting wha-”

“Ari, you’re one of my closest friends…not including Church, Andy, and Commander Danish. And one of the nicest people in the canyon. I was wondering if you would like to do friend stuff like hold hands, have tea parties with Captain Croissant, and go with me alone for a lunch date – you know, like a picnic!”

Silence. Crippling, awkward silence.

“Sure, Caboose,” Ariel sighed, ignoring his teammates’ snickers. “That sounds lovely and pretty gentlemanly of you, unlike _some_ people. I would love to hang out with you more. And hey, we could always invite your other best friends like Church, too. He can’t eat, but a relationship doesn’t have to be exclusive or based around prosaic needs, right?”

Caboose lit up at the suggestion, “Okay!”

“Hey, I don’t know what that word means, but hell no!”

“Shh,” Tucker hushed with a mocking lilt. “Don’t interrupt them. Never knew Caboose felt that way about Ari _or_ you. Bow chicka bow wow.”

Church slapped a hand over his visor as if to un-see whatever image Tucker just put into his head.

* * *

“I still don’t like this,” Ariel muttered under his breath as he snuck around back. He had one eye on Sheila and the other on Caboose who was definitely fumbling the distraction.

Luckily, Sheila was a ‘dumb’ AI and not particularly perceptive at that.

Creeping closer on his belly, Ariel brought up the TACPAD in his gauntlet unit.

When he had more time, he probably should try to outfit it like his holopad but moving on (he would have used it instead, but it wasn’t built with the idea of dangerous stealth missions in mind).

Quickly, quietly, Ariel hacked through Sheila’s firewalls.

“Hurry it up,” Texas whispered.

“Almost and…there! You can shut her down now!”

Sheila cut off mid-sentence, cannon turret whipping around.

Too late as Texas took over and ‘pulled the plug’ since there was some sort of mechanical issue keeping Ariel from remotely deactivating her.

Apparently, Sheila somehow knew whom O’ Malley had taken over, but her untimely deactivation cut the AI off before Caboose could get a name. And like the rest of their luck, Sheila really was sabotaged since her mechanics and software had been pretty badly messed up.

Luckily, they had a ship and a spare hard line to transfer her onto the pelican’s onboard computers.

Now while they were waiting, Church and Texas were hashing out their relationship problems again. Ariel was kind of glad their cybernetic members didn’t need to sleep, leaving the other Blues to eat and rest through what was probably the worst of the emotional rollercoaster conversation they walked on.

“I told you, I needed to find Wyoming.”

“Yeah, and how’d that work out? What happened?”

He could feel the frustrated frown on Tex’s face. “I thought I tracked him back to O’ Malley. But by the time York and I got to him-”

“York, your old Freelancer buddy? Was Carolina with him?”

Ariel didn’t feel good suddenly. The names York and Carolina thudded over and over again in his head.

// _A brunet, always ready with a cocky smile and a friendly word of advice. The normal one of their messed up ______._

_A fiery redhead, tone curt but softer when she spoke to the brunet._

Guilt/protectiveness/loss-

_The two are together, unaware of their unattended watcher. The woman is completely at ease for once, staring at the man with a certain look…_

Hard truths/understanding/acceptance-

The colors leeched away from the vision.

_People rushing about a room equipped with high-end medical tech._

_A man being pried out of partially melted and scorched armor…_

A grainy image_._ Brief, violent flashes of color.

_Two people, black and gold, against someone in bright blue._

WoRry/FeAr/AnGuIsH_… _

_Nonononono! Stop it! Don’t-! _//

Ariel’s head snapped to the side. He raised up a hand in reflex.

Texas had punched him.

“If you’re going to keep having these little episodes, Ariel, we should ship you back home. A soldier who can’t hold it together is just going to bring the rest of his team down at the most critical time,” the Freelancer lambasted him, completely apathetic to the others’ looks of shock.

“I’m _fine,_” Ariel grumbled. “Just…just some memories, okay? What were we talking about?”

“Well, before we noticed you had checked out with reality, I was theorizing how York’s armor healing enhancement could have kept him alive all this time.”

“I thought we already established we’re _not_ in the future,” the indigo soldier reminded her.

“Oh, sorry, I was just going along with what Church was saying. Humoring him.” Was she being sincere, mocking, or sarcastic? Hard to tell with the black-armored woman.

“Just like when we dated,” aforementioned Blue groused.

“So, this York guy had an AI named Delta and a powerful healing unit enhancement. And you found from Wyoming helmet logs there are multiple entities working against us. Welp, we already kind of knew that, right?”

“We did?” Tucker questioned.

“Yeah, remember? I doubt O’ Malley didn’t notice him slinking around Sidewinder and conveniently taking out all those Reds while he and Lopez built their weather device. They’re probably in cahoots with each other.”

Tucker laughed. “Cahoots? What are you, from the 20th century?”

“As I was saying,” Ariel continued, “We should anticipate a possible collaboration among our enemies. Not to mention how Vic fits in all this.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tucker muttered. “You said Vic probably hired the Freelancer guy to kill me.”

“Because you have a big mouth,” Caboose felt compelled to contribute.

“Caboose, shut up. So, we not only have a crazy AI with plans to conquer the universe, a murderous Freelancer, but we also got ‘Command’ going against us? We’re fucked.”

“Real encouraging there, Tucker.” Church turned back to Texas. “Okay, so you guys cornered Wyoming. Then what? Didn’t you say you lost him? What, did he wake back up?”

Texas nodded. “No, that’s the funny thing. He just disappeared. There one moment then gone the next.”

Caboose felt his thirty-seconds without a word was too long. “And then in the next moment?”

“Can I kill him?”

“No, I’m saving him in case we ever need more food. Rations have been tight since the Reds keep raiding our kitchen whenever we’re gone from base too long.”

“How about we not and keep telling the story,” Ariel suggested hastily.

“Fine. So, is his enhancement teleportation, then?”

“No,” Texas immediately denied, “I’m pretty someone else snatched him from a distance.”

“How? The only person I know who can do that is-” Church began then stopped. “Wait a minute. Every Freelancer had an enhanced suit of armor plus an AI, right?”

“Everyone on my team except for three had an AI, why?”

“Your armor has invisibility and your AI was Omega.”

“Active camouflage, but right.”

“And what was Wyoming’s AI called?”

“Gamma. Your point?”

Gamma. The name sounded familiar and not exactly in the way preceding a space-out. Like he heard the name recently or- Wait…

“I gotta make a phone call,” Church decided after a long sigh.

* * *

“So, how was your conversation with Gary?”

Church just stared at him.

“That well, huh?”

“First _Gamma_ hangs up on me, now Vic did, too!”

“Vic?”

The Blues plus Texas had decided to meet back up on top of Blue Base.

“Anyways, for some reason, _Vic Jr._ wants us to attack Red Base right now with some of us going through the caves,” Church continued.

“Caves? What caves? We have caves now?” Tucker exclaimed.

“Apparently we do. Are you really that surprised ‘Command’ hasn’t told us about them until now? Just like with everything else going on at this useless boxed canyon,” Church huffed.

Ariel shook his head and asked, “Any idea why ‘Command’ would send us down there and after the Reds?”

“Don’t know, don’t really care,” Church deadpanned. “Since Vic probably won’t get off our backs if we don’t do it, here’s the plan: Tucker, Tex, Ari, and I will go across the canyon to Red Base-”

“Hey, what about my kid? No way I’m sending him to war! Not before he gets a chance to live his life, meet girls, you know, make dumb mistakes like I did at his age.”

“Tucker. He’s only about three-days old,” Ariel pointed out.

“That’s why,” Church interrupted the two Blues, “we’ll send him, Doc, and Sister down to get lost in the caves. Chances are, that’s where the Reds have disappeared off. But we know what their track record is; they’ll be fine.”

With the exception of a vengeance-driven Donut, they really didn’t have any luck taking down their team for all their greater animosity toward them (mostly supplied by Sarge).

Tucker nodded his head. “Oh, good point. Wait, why can’t I go down there? You know, give them a bit of extra protection?”

“No,” Church denied immediately.

Ariel patted him on the back. “Nice try, but hey, at least you’re not stuck on Caboose-sitting. Caboose, you probably should stay with the ship and make sure nothing happens to stop the download. You know, or else we might lose Sheila altogether.”

“Oh. That would be bad, okay!”

In typical Blood Gulch fashion, there was several more minutes of arguing and quibbling before they went off in their separate directions.

Ariel rated their chances of this going off without a hitch or casualties…about 0.001 percent. And that was probably a bit more optimistic than he should put it.

Ariel, Tucker, and Church stayed up on the cliff while Texas went to scout ahead the presumably empty Red Base.

Ariel flipped through his armor specs, trying to enhance his motion sensors. He thought he saw something earlier on them…

A crack of the sniper rifle firing interrupted him.

“What the- Tucker! Didn’t you tell us you didn’t know how to work a sniper rifle? And Church, the sword only works for Tucker, didn’t we already establish that?”

“You know what, here, Church, you can have it back,” Tucker stated, quickly handing the weapon back to its owner. At the same time, Ariel took the sword from Church.

Just then, Texas arrived, eyed Church who held the sniper rifle, then pummeled him with her battle rifle.

The cobalt soldier went down immediately.

“Fuck. What did I do?!” Church groaned from where he laid flat on his face.

“Asshole.”

“See? I told him he wasn’t very good with it.”

Ariel pointed out, “Actually, that’s because Church can’t shoot and hit anything.”

Texas turned to Ariel.

“Don’t look at me, I hit what I _want_ to aim. And I know how to use the FOF targeting system.”

Then she looked at Tucker – who was still missing his sword.

Texas was a lot smarter than any of them, and she could put one and two together.

A~and, down went Tucker.

Ariel sighed as he went to tend to his teammates.

* * *

There really were no Reds here.

The three of them went to the rooftop to find it as empty as the inside of the base.

“So, what do we do no-?” Ariel stopped talking mid-word.

“Hey, Ari, what’s-?”

The two other Blues turned around to face whatever had frozen the tech.

They saw Texas aiming her gun at Church.

“Aw crap.”

“Don’t move,” the Freelancer warned them lowly.

Tucker had followed Texas’s lead when the Freelancer made no move to threaten him.

Ariel was still trying to figure out what Church did wrong this time.

“Oh, busted! Kill him Tex! I have 50-1 odds if his death is caused by anyone but Caboose!”

“Tucker,” Ariel warned, placing himself in front of Church, figuring he had better odds of not getting shot…by Texas, at least.

“Ariel, get out of the way. Church is O’ Malley!”

“What?! I am _not_ O’ Malley!” Church immediately denied.

“Bullshit. It all makes sense now. You were the one who told Gary where we were; you were the one who asked me to disable Sheila and move her onto the ship; and you were the one who tried to take the ship’s ignition coil from me,” Tex listed off.

Ariel wasn’t convinced. That didn’t sound really all that different than what Church would normally decide. Terrible decisions, sure, but it wasn’t like he was their official leader or anything.

And Church felt the same way.

“That’s all coincidental. And it doesn’t make me evil, just makes me a bad leader.”

“Bull. Shit. Why else would Caboose tell me you had the AI?”

Church sputtered, “Caboose? You’re getting information…from Caboose?”

“I have to agree,” Ariel noted, voice deliberately even and calm. “Caboose isn’t usually the most lucid of our team even before O’ Malley and you two decided to jump inside his cranium.”

:: That’s right :: Caboose reported from the radios.

Church didn’t seem amused. “I swear, Caboose, if you get me killed _again…_okay, this time I might get a little bit pissed off.”

:: But Sheila told me so! She said she thought O’ Malley might be inside Blue Leader! ::

“And that’s you.” Texas’s rifle pointed up until it leveled with Church’s helmet visor past Ariel’s shoulder.

“No it isn’t,” Ariel contradicted, scooting to the left and in the rifle’s sight. “For one, I’m the highest ranked officer here,” the barrel pressed a bit uncomfortably closer in his field of vision, “and two, no one here was officially acknowledged by Command as the new commander of Blue Base. To quote with artistic license a pacifist, we’re just privates and a corporal with a dead…captain…”

He was kidding about the rise from the dead thought!

Well, obviously no one believed the two when they accused their dead former CO of harboring the AI. And with Ariel pointing out his own rank, now both Blues were on figurative trial.

Luckily, Tucker was a lover not a fighter, and easily convinced by Church’s vitriol to at least back down.

Then they went back to the issue that brought them to the empty base in the first place.

“So, does anyone have a bad feeling about this whole setup, emphasis on _setup?_”

If somehow Captain Flowers was brought back to life and was possessed by O’ Malley. But how did their missing Reds and ‘Blue Command’ fit in was a mystery.

Unless, of course, the latter was just drawing them here for a tr-

“I hate being right sometimes,” Ariel sighed.

Just as Texas spoke aloud what he was thinking, Wyoming appeared.

“Sorry to interrupt…well, whatever it is you people do around here. I assume some sort of ditch digging?” the Brit mocked them.

“Well, sucks for you! Blue Team doesn’t even have shovels. Which is kind of inconvenient since it’s our guys who keep dying.”

“Smooth, Tucker.”

“Shut it, asshole.”

“Well, woe to me if I let that trend stop here.” Wyoming raised his weapon up higher.

Evidentially, Wyoming didn’t seem to hold a grudge against Texas for almost killing him the other week. Or for Tucker.

No, for some inexplicable reason, he wanted Tucker’s kid.

“So, you went from big bad bounty hunter…to child kidnapper,” Ariel slowly enunciated. “Coming down in life?”

“Hardly. In fact, the little guy is quite important to a lot of people. And this war.”

“The one between the Reds and the Blues?” Church threw out there.

“Your little scuffles in this grungy outpost hardly amounts to a war, ol’ chap,” the Brit drawled condescendingly.

Ariel scowled. Sure, none of those present actually believed in their supposed rivalry with the Reds, but the Freelancer hardly needed to keep pushing the sarcasm there.

Church then started to outline their situation loudly and slowly, in a way Ariel almost instantly understood was tailored to a certain person’s understanding. Now, if only he could tell their reserve soldier to help them subtlety…or at least, not outright say Caboose come and help save them from Wyoming.

Although, it sounded Church wasn’t really getting any success there.

“Why do you keep reiterating things to me? I understand the situation perfectly; in fact, I’m the one to put you into this situation in the first place.” Wyoming was probably questioning Church’s sanity with the way he was going on and on.

“Yeah, what are you, our team’s narrator?” Tucker unhelpfully added onto the Freelancer’s trailing thought. “Is this like the time you felt like telling us the flag came back in that weird voice?”

“Tucker, just let the man talk. I’m very sure he has a good reason for it,” Ariel tried to soothe the other Blue. There was a low chance the other would take a hint, but Church couldn't say he didn't try to help.

Church continued, and Tucker wasn’t having it or getting Ariel’s subtle hinting.

“Church, we get it, we’re at the Red Base, Wyoming is here and has us at gunpoint, and we’re going to fucking die now.”

Wow, love the enthusiasm and the belief in one’s teammates.

Ariel wondered why they were on the ropes when it was only one Freelancer against another Freelancer and three (somewhat incompetent) soldiers. They all still had their guns, and not even Church could mess up a shot at this range. Then again, maybe Church and Texas had actual concerns one of the others would get hurt…?

Naw, they probably were more worried they would get caught in the ensuing crossfire.

“Okay. Fine. Why don’t I take it from the top? Would you like to write this down?”

“Wha-no!”

Wyoming turned to Tucker. “I think your friend here has finally lost his marbles. Well, not that I didn’t expect it; Church was never the most put-together of people when I knew him back then with Texas.”

“Oh, if you want to see crazy, try and take my fucking kid from me. What do you fucking want with him, anyway? He never did anything to you,” Tucker growled, hand clenching toward his currently useless energy blade.

Wyoming went on about how Tucker’s kid was going to help them do something, how his partner (O’ Malley/Captain Flowers?) had already gone ahead to secure the little hybrid, and how he only came here to tie up some loose ends.

Then the tank showed up. Which, would have been a good thing…if Caboose had been the one to drive it here.

“Knock, knock, Church.”

“Oh shit…”

The guy continued to monologue like a bad television villain…then things went a bit loopy.

Literally.

“I’m quite content with how things turned out. It made things so much easier when you left your tank completely unattended, ripe for the taking. It makes securing your defeat and humiliation so much easier on us,” Wyoming droned on.

This guy sure loved to rub in how desperate their situation had become. Ariel considered he should try to shoot the guy while he was too busy talking and then they could try their chances with the tank. If anything, this wasn’t their base, they could just huddle inside until Gamma ran out of ammo.

...wait a minute...

“Yeah, well, great. So glad we can help. I’m sure if you keep this up, we’ll just take our own bullets to our fucking heads. You know, save you some ammo,” Church snarked…again?

Ariel blinked. Ran over what just happened…and kept coming to a blank.

What. The. Hell?

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, ol’ chap, your deaths will be for a very noble cause.”

Church interrupted, “What do you want with Tucker’s kid anyways?”

“What?! How did we get here?” Tucker suddenly shouted.

_Oh, so not another episode._ At least he wasn’t the only one experiencing déjà vu.

Tucker looked at all of them, completely confused. “What?!”

“Seriously, what’s with you?” Church asked, turning toward Tucker who was twisting from side to side.

“What’s with me- what’s with you! What’s going on?!”

Church sounded less amused as he recapped, “We’re being held prisoner? Where the hell have you been in the past ten minutes of this guy going on and on?”

“What? I’m so confused.”

So was Ariel. But maybe this time might end up-

Nope. Wyoming knocked Texas out.

“What, how did he know where Texas was?”

“Of course he fucking knew, that’s where she was before!” Tucker interjected.

“Bef-before what? Tucker, stop talking crazy and make sense!”

“I think he knows.”

Wyoming took careful note of the evidence before him as he turned slightly toward his AI partner.

“You might be right there, ol’ chum.”

On cue, their last missing member arrived.

“Church! Church, I’m here to help you!” Caboose shouted as he came hurtling down the slope.

Ariel couldn’t stop the flinch as he watched the tank gun down Caboose.

And like before, Church shrieked in denial of what just happened. Then all three of them ran below as the tank turned back to them and opened fire.

“Caboose! Caboose!” Church yelled then turned back to them. “Fuck, he’s not moving.”

“Armor doesn’t do much against cannon shots,” Ariel pointed out, voice tight.

“Like Ari said. Because he’s dead. Just like last time.”

Church had it with Tucker, and Tucker wasn’t better, either. Their last able member just kept lookout for the tank should Gary/Gamma decide to roll around the rocky outcropping.

Then Church made a one-out-of-million shot and hit Wyoming.

Just like he did before.

And like before it didn’t do them much good as the whole thing reset.

Several reiterations later…

“Tucker,” Ariel whispered as they ducked behind another rock, Gamma chasing them further out this time loop.

“What?”

“We need a better strategy than just getting Texas knocked out, Caboose killed, and then injuring but not defeating Wyoming.”

“Wait, you knew? How long-”

“Since the beginning, but I’ve been trying to figure out why we keep going around and around in this same situation. I think it has something to do with Gamma and Wyoming’s special armor power. Back at the wind powerplant, the AI was able to send Church back in time, once really far – which I think was a freak occurrence – then dozens of times for a shorter section of it. But we’re obviously not affected.”

“So?”

“So, this time after Church gets Wyoming and we loop again…”

“Yeah, well, great. So glad we can help. I’m sure if you keep this up, we’ll just take our own bullets to our fucking heads. You know, save you some ammo.”

“Yeah, what do you want with my kid, anyways?” Tucker played along.

“Y-you don’t remember?” Wyoming asked, bewildered.

_Well, considering how many times repeating things didn’t exactly work the last dozen or so times…_

“Remember what?” Ariel inquired.

“Yeah, what he said. You haven’t fucking told us anything.”

Things proceeded normally from the first timeline, so Wyoming and Gamma relaxed their guard every so slightly, giving the two Blues their opening. While Wyoming was preoccupied with Texas, Tucker and Ariel ran off in different directions.

“Poor, Texas, she never knew when she was-”

Before Wyoming knew it, he had the two blades of the energy sword clean through his gut.

Tucker finished with all the decisive glee of a vindicated warrior, “Beat? Booyah, you kid-stealing cockbite!” He pulled the sword out, unceremoniously letting the Freelancer dropped onto the ground.

While Tucker got to spend his protective parental outrage on Wyoming, Ariel took a running leap off the base and onto the tank’s canopy.

He saw from the corner of his HUD as Wyoming took an energy sword right through armor, flesh, and bone.

Gamma was distracted as he called out somewhat forlornly (for his dull tone), “Reggie!”

“This is for Caboose!” Ariel yelled at the same time aforementioned Blue came running down the slope only to be driven off by Tucker.

Not that he really paid that much attention when he slammed hand through the panel openings and onto the tank’s dashboard.

Like the time with the alien and when he nearly lost it with Doc, bright streams of energy flared along his arm to his hand connected to the panel.

But instead of destroying or otherwise disabling the AI…

The world fell away.


	7. Scarlet Lily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meaning: high-souled aspirations

“Speaking”

~exaggerated, amplified, modulated, playful~

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel] 

< direct mental communication via neural implant: AI and _host_ >

_ “**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

Gary, A.K.A. Gamma was confused to put it lightly.

He had evidently been transferred into the indigo simulation soldier’s suit, but the thing was, only a select number of fragments inherited Alpha’s ‘jumping gene’, something previously unique to the Alpha AI and select fragments. Gamma was certainly not one of his brothers to get that rare ability.

The only way he had escaped the Meta when it came after Reggie and himself was by using a very limited short-distance transfer ability that require physical contact between hardware. As luck would have it, the Meta threw Reggie, armor and all, into a computer console.

Said console was linked to the base’s communication tower. It took a great deal of time (several seconds), but Gamma managed to send himself away, diverting the Meta’s attention long enough for Reggie to slip out of the room and hopefully to the nearest Pelican.

Gamma found himself in another computer system. Then it was a matter of trial and error and happenstance leading to lodging in his former host computer at Zanzibar.

He felt bad for the damage he dealt his partner, but they were going to die at this rate if he didn’t do something.

However, whatever happened here was less his choice to move his matrix to another location in virtual space and more of a strange insistent grabbing sensation tucking his slew of data into a compressed packet then releasing it into parts unknown without so much as a warning.

Very rude.

Currently, he was in a large space filled with plants of all things. Most of them had stakes planted in their pots or nearby the main stem, an image instead of a name shown in the sign above.

Another strange thing was the individual casing. Some of the plants grew freely, but a majority seemed to be blocked off behind red-tinted glass.

Upon further inspection, the AI fragment could see the ‘glass’ was actually bits of data, lines of binary coding.

Restrictive coding.

Firewalls Gamma would surmise from experience. But why would a human mind have what by all appearances were firewalls?

These plants somehow must represent his host’s memories and knowledge most likely. Some of the signs, the ones for the freed plants, showcased a moving preview of the memory it hosted. By the way they flickered and warped, even these showed some sort of tampering.

His glowing blue avatar walked over to one of the more translucent and slightly cracked firewalls sealing its item from the rest of the soldier’s mind. Putting both hands against it, establishing a direction connection, the AI concentrated. He may not be the precise Delta, overpowering as Omega, or as capable as Sigma but…

Ones and zeroes streamed across its surface in erratic paths, blazing a brighter warning red. Then the glass partition dissolved into pixels and disappeared.

The tree with a clock placed conspicuously on top began to shine.

The mental room became overlaid by new images.

The soldier’s presumably sealed off memories, the ones he lost in his ‘coma’.

// _Wyoming in his chalk-white armor sat on a table. There’s a mirror nearby. It shows standing in front of the agent is a familiar figure in white armor, red making an outline of a doctor’s mark of office across the upper left chest plate._

This was from nearly two years ago, back when he and Reggie still lived and worked on the _Mother of Invention._ Before things went horribly wrong with the birth of the Meta.

_“~Agent Wyoming. I have given this lecture to Agents Florida and North Dakota on numerous occasions, the former for his inability to pay heed to his pain receptors and the latter for his naivety and bullheadedness. Then there’s Maine who’s in a league of his own when it comes to endangering himself. Heck, our dear rookie is on there, too, by virtue of clumsiness. And don’t get me started on our the Triplets before they left us. Do I need to make a new slot for a fifth name to my list?~” The voice was staticky and switched from androgynous high and low pitches randomly._

_A blue figure appeared over Agent Wyoming’s shoulder. _Himself_._

_“Reggie is hardly of the same priority risk as the others.”_

_“~And how many times do I need to repeat the basic rules to time travel? Don’t go too far because the only one going to be in trouble is yourself, pause only in short bursts, don’t loop too much because God knows he’s arrogant enough to probably off one or several of himself out of pride – and you need to keep better track of yourself and reintegrate _all _your clones, things get hairy otherwise - and remember this enhancement is more of a double-edged sword, not some master cheat code. One mistake is all that it takes, Gamma. If the user dies, that’s it.”_

_“Once more, that is a stupid oversight.”_

_“I didn’t build the enhancement, you and I just tweaked after the other science guys took a crack at it. Anyways, Gamma make sure he takes his medicine like normal and bring him back for a checkup in a week.”_

_“Oi! Do I not get a say in this?”_

_“No/~No~” AI and doctor told him_ //

The flashback ended there, leaving the AI very confused. If his memory banks were correct (and they usually were), there shouldn’t have been anyone else in the medical wing of the MoI. So, how did this simulation soldier have a memory of the event?

“Okay…?”

Gamma whipped around. There was the simulation soldier in question, looking bewilderingly around.

“Where am I, and who are you?”

There shouldn’t be anyone inside of here besides memories and mental images of people, including the host itself. But a mental representation of the host shouldn’t be acting so aware of things, either.

“Gamma,” the AI answered in his robotic monotone.

The soldier blinked. “Gamma? _You’re _Gamma? I guess this is what your avatar looks like…but wait, what were you doing before? What was that? And…are we in my head?”

The soldier looked around, taking the time to study his mindscape.

“Wow, I know I like botany, but this place is a bit more jungle-like than you would expect from a technician, don’t you think? Wait…I know you. I don’t really know why, but I know you…holy smokes, were you messing with my memories?!”

So, he was correct; the plants did represent the man’s lost memories, firewalls and some sort of program messing with most of them. And as Gamma thought, the firewalls really weren’t natural as one would expect something more inline to the nature-theme if they were simply suppressed memories.

_Speaking of memories_... Gamma lied to everyone, including himself, but he couldn’t lie about what was right in his face.

This human was somehow connected to Project Freelancer, to the project’s most promising group. To one of the men who had most influence on the Alpha Team, in particular.

Question was, how deeply was he involved, why was he at a simulation outpost, and how much should Gamma reveal?

As for who altered the man’s memories to this extent…well, there was only one man Gamma knew this thorough.

The only question, why? What did the soldier know and who was he the Director had not already disposed of him instead of using this faulty method of control?

“And why am I chained up?”

Gamma drew out of his thoughts, looking down. Indeed, the soldier did have a shackle around their ankle.

And he wasn’t the only one. The AI stared at the metal closed in around his own virtual ankle.

The AI drawled, “Well, it must be of your own fault, Shizno, since this is _your_ mind.”

“My mind? Wait, I thought Church mentioned how minds were full of mental images and stuff. And Caboose certainly didn’t seem aware of himself in here. And why the hell would I imagine myself chained?”

Gamma had to concede, the soldier hardly seemed someone who would enjoy having their freedom restricted. Not of his own will.

Gamma examined his own shackle and found it lined with a very complex and vicious bit of coding.

Strange how it was like the firewall in that respect, based on data. It was almost as if this mind wasn’t based on a human’s but a fellow AI’s Reimann Matrix. Gamma didn’t discount the possibility, it was the Director’s field, and it would explain some things.

Furthermore, the signature on his shackles matched one he just browsed a little while ago, and he could identify how it did bear some of the Director’s handiwork.

Gamma looked back to the signs. If those were memories, some of which seemed to flicker erratically as a scene would be played then another would try to form only to reverted back…

Haphazardly done attempt to rewrite a file, but such things left a trail, or an echo of the information lost. There were ways to restore such things, especially as the subject actively and partially fought off reprogramming even now. It just needed an extra set of ‘hands’, so to speak.

“We can agree neither of us want to stay here, yes?”

The soldier nodded slowly. “And…? Your point?”

“These holograms represent your memories and knowledge; however many have been walled off or altered as you can see.” Another nod. “I can help you. Our restraints and this form of tampering seem to be linked together or related. As a master of deception and AI, I am best suited to fix the damage.”

“And what’s in it for you, Gamma?” the human questioned.

_Perceptive._

“If I help you with your memory problem, you will release me from your mind.”

“And exactly how do I do that? I don’t even know how you go in here in the first place. I just planned on frying your circuitry, not sharing headspace.”

How very naïve, to reveal such information willingly instead of just playing along with Gamma’s proposal.

It was…somewhat refreshing. Back to the issue…

“It is possible the knowledge of how you create and wield the mysterious energy is linked to your missing memories. And if anything else, if I am simply in your armor’s AI slot, you should be able to manually transfer me to another system.”

The human looked very reluctant, but in the end, nothing would change if they remained in this strange mental space.

“How are you going to do this?”

Gamma eyed the memories around them. “Theoretically, we must find the root memory – the one connected to all the others. This should trigger a cascade effect, similar in true amnesia patients, although your condition is quite evidentially artificial in nature.”

He discounted the idea to suggest outright the soldier was not truly human. This Ariel thought human, so he would most likely react as such as well. And humans were never the most rational beings when one called their existence into question.

“Of course, of course, ‘Command’ lied about that, too. Okay, it’s your show, Gamma. I’m just a lowly tech of Blue Team, after all.”

_Well, we’ll know about that for sure, won’t we?_

* * *

After what felt like the passing of an hour, the two came to a very bizarre sight: instead of a tree, bush, or some other plant, there was a young lion sleeping in a deeper section of the mental plane, the same deep red coding wrapped around it like thick chains.

They were ensnared with vines hung with flowers and plants not exactly found on vines naturally.

Gamma eyed the snarled tangle. It was hard to say whether the program was keeping these memories at bay or whether the plants were some sort of defense mechanism trying to keep them from infiltrating any further into the core memory.

The human drew up next to Gamma and slung an arm around him.

“Alright, if that isn’t suspicious and definitely doesn’t fit…well, go ahead.”

The AI’s blue avatar turned to give the soldier a long look.

“Listen, this is all in my mind, right? I’m sure the lion knows not to eat you if you do wake it up doing whatever. I don’t break my promises, and the lion’s part of me, right?”

“I suppose,” Gamma conceded. He wasn’t like his older ‘brother’ Delta who could calculate at a higher rate than any of the other AI fragments, but he could be discerning enough to a certain extent as any AI program.

He wrapped a virtual hand around the nearest chain link of malicious programming.

Deception and logic were in the end, still related concepts relating different modes of thinking. He would admit he wasn’t bright, but he was clever. And liars could recognize liar, and what was this coding but lies?

And lies, he can pick apart given time.

The final chain link dissolved.

The vines and plants shifted, their three-dimensional forms sinking to form patterns in the animal’s coat.

The lion opened his eyes, one bright purple and the other like a living diamond. It got to its feet, sending the AI scrambling away in a hurry. But the lion just stood there, regarding the two with old-looking eyes. Then it roared, streams of data rushing out from its glowing body.

Thoughts bombarded the AI and human.

// _Falling over, the sense of reaching too far and _too much!_… _

_“Ari, what-!”_

The voice of a young girl, her call of distress cutting off suddenly. A thump echoing continuously, soft in reality but clear and loud in the memory of it.

_"Welcome,” a soft-spoken black man greeted. “The Director has been looking forward to working with you for some time.”_

_“I’m sure he has,” mutters the Doctor with a sharp-edged smile._

_“~Do I have to wear this?~” _

_A hand pawed at a silvery device wrapped nearly up against the throat. His voice came out oddly, voice pitching randomly up and down, computerized, or with a mishmash of accents, all in just one short statement._

A voice filter device.

_“It’s for your own safety. With your previous work, it would be best to practice discretion…”_

_A huff of disdain. The voice filter was clearly turned back off as the normal soprano of the doctor denounced, “No, it’s because you haven’t told her, have you? And you don’t intend to. You know, _Director_, she might actually kick your ass for this.”_

_“It stays on if you are to join in this project. Shall I remind you of how there are others with far more experience than yourself?”_

_“~Geez, I get it, maintain the illusion of seniority, authority, and professionalism, yadda, yadda, yadda, do my jobs, and keep a low profile,~” the younger version of the doctor listed off, voice filter firmly turned back on._

_ “~Welcome to the Mother of Invention, soldiers. I’ll be your chief medical officer during your stay in the program, codename the Specialist._

_As long as you don’t do anything too blindingly stupid and reckless, I’ll be overseeing your treatments and procedures within the med bay, from field injuries, to your upcoming surgeries to make you the best you can be. And if you comment on the voice, I’ll only be a little bit bad about the reason you land in the medic bay during the next cycle. I hope we have a meaningful partnership while you call the Mother of Invention home~”_

Gamma saw the chief medical officer as he stood in front of the first wave of recruits for Project Freelancer, his own Reggie among the lineup of the best and brightest handpicked for the project. He now recognized the simulation soldier’s natural accent, buried as it was beneath the CMO’s artificially modulated tones.

_“Hi, I’m the Specialist. Call me Specs, some of the younger agents certainly do. And you must be the guardian of our lovely ship. Alpha, right?”_

_“What the- how are you in here?”_

The doctor laughs at the affronted look the Alpha’s avatar wears, fingers laying mockingly on the holographic keyboard display.

_“How do you think? The Director isn’t the only one who knows their away around 1s and 0s.”_

The Alpha. The Specialist knew the Alpha.

And he knew enough to get around the security codes protecting the smart AI.

A series of fragmented memories played.

The Specialist seeing to various injuries accrued during training sessions.

Dressed in different armor, talking to different Freelancers, vocalizer set to a randomized voice but stable.

The Specialist talking and the Alpha answering back.

Gamma frowned. There was something off. Not sabotaged off, but the Alpha…

His creator for lack of a better term, didn’t act like from what Gamma remembered from when he tortured the AI. He was full of himself, brash, uncouth, yes. But he seemed a bit more patient, more considering, and was undeniably attached to the chief medical officer.

There were strange gaps in the quickly flitting montage, and if Gamma tried to fix them, something else would reach out and slap his digitized fingers away.

_You’re not ready to know, yet._ The film reel of images and snapshots finally slowed.

_“This is wrong, Director!”_

The doctor’s voice, his original one, barking in a mix of betrayal, loathing, and desperation for the other to see reason.

Who did the doctor think he was, to question the Director’s motives or decisions? Not even the Counselor had that privilege or gall.

Yet, the memory from near the beginning of this whole memory reveal was very telling. The Director was the reason why the Doctor always used his armor’s voice filter system, a highly advanced one not even he could unravel all the synth layers.

A new scene greets the AI.

They are in a room, a large computer in full display with numbers moving at speeds dizzying for a human to keep track.

_“Damn it all! What are these guys doing?! They picked a hell of a time to pull this stunt! I-”_

The rumble shakes the room. Then it begins to angle down.

_“What is he doing?!”_

_The doctor slams both hands against the keyboard of the computer._

_“Flying systems are red-lighting, we’ll need to go manual. However, F.I.L.S.S.’s emergency functions are a mess, and at this rate we’re going to make a painful and 97% fatal crash into that abandoned fortress base… No choice, I’ll need to do this myself.”_

A blip as time fast-forwards.

The doctor’s body can be seen, slumped down against the computer console //

_What is this? _The more memories Gamma watches, the more questions he has. These are clearly the memories of the MoI’s chief medical officer, yet the perspective is from looking _at_ said person’s body. There isn’t a mirror to explain it. In fact, Gamma could easily relate how the perspective was taken seemingly from the computer’s monitoring screen itself.

But how?

Several more firewalls collapsed around them, the memories within sending a stream of information toward the distraught indigo soldier who had fallen to his knees.

//_ Trapped. Dizzy. Can’t move. Man, maybe he should have reconsidered his final action before the world went tilted._

_Wait… He can hear something. Voices._

_“What will you do, Director?”_

_“What do you think? You saw the reports. He might someday wake up…but I can’t chance it. Not again. And we don’t have five years to wait, Counselor. We might not even have one.”_

_“He may never recover if you do this.”_

_“So? I accept that risk. I’ve already laid down the groundwork. The good doctor had always been a quick young man, a bit too curious for his own good. This way he’ll be…”_

_“Easily manipulated,” the other voice tonelessly finished. _

_“Exactly, Counselor, exactly. Now, prep for surgery.” _

_No-_//

Gamma blinked. The mindscape had changed. Instead of a wide space full of plants, there were new levels, scattered bits of tech, and random data streams lacing everything.

It was a strange mesh of the biological and technological.

As for the soldier…

His armor kept flickering between the simulation trooper’s…and the armor worn by the chief medical officer of the MoI and neural science consultant of Project Freelancer. There was a strange afterimage behind him, but it disappeared as soon as Gamma tried focusing on it.

“So…the Specialist or Ariel?” Gamma tentatively probed.

The soldier turned his visor in his direction. “Gamma or Gary?”

Clever human.

“It’s odd,” the soldier and doctor mused mostly to himself. “I know who I am now, but I don’t have all the memories and most of the know-how is still locked up.” There were still many more memories barred by red firewalls, and some of the signs, now replaced entirely by floating holo screens, were still glitching.

“But Ariel is also me, at least ever I landed myself in a second coma. Then again, it’s not like Ariel isn’t already part of my name, anyways. Eh, I always liked that name better anyways. Call me that.”

Gamma was sure to file that tidbit away. Could become useful in the future.

The equivalent of instinct, some lesser part of his logical matrices, told him he no longer had the impunity to view the memories with the good doctor fully conscious of himself. So, every piece of information he gathered could be critical to getting him out of this place.

“Then you may call me Gamma.”

“Fair enough,” the doctor replied. He looked around. “This might take a while. And you’re right, the same programming locking away or otherwise messing up my memories and knowledge is in fact linked to the chains around our ankles. Nasty bit a work, isn’t it?”

“What are you?” Gamma can’t help but ask. No human mind should be like this. How did the Director presumably alter the doctor’s memories like this, and why did it look more like the work you would find in a computer than images conceived by a human consciousness? Is it possible…?

The human (or was he something else?) took off his helmet and flashed a crooked smirk. The humor didn’t seem to reflect in his glowing crystalline eyes. “Isn’t that the million dollar question. As far as I’m concerned, my body is human, so I’m human. But if you think you might have a chance to pull an Omega now…”

The human held up an armored hand wrapped in the same shimmering light Gamma recalled scant nanoseconds before it came crashing down on the tank’s interfacing screen.

The light fizzled then crystallized into a sharp looking pane of pure energy.

Gamma was then painfully brought back to the awareness he wasn’t in some computer; he was in the man’s head.

His territory, so to speak.

“Noted,” the AI gulped. “Not that I have such abilities, rest assured. With Reggie, he didn’t expect what I did, and it took some weeks to fix my programing afterward, an experience I do not wish to repeat.”

No useful power was without its side-effects or prices.

The doctor lowered his hand, the strange energy fading. “Sheesh, don’t worry, I only planned on putting you into hibernation mode. And didn’t you hear me before? I promised to let you go after helping me out.”

The Doctor’s eyes looked at Gamma but were seeing something beyond the AI.

“Okay, I probably should go back up and see what’s going on – you know, before someone offs me for real. Gamma, feel free to make yourself at home until we get the lock-in program off.”

For the first time since he woke up, Ariel didn’t feel as lost and confined as he did back then. He didn’t feel like some stranger given a role to fulfill from out of the blue. He felt…like himself.

The lock-in program’s original purpose was to lock him inside his own head but unable to unlock true memories. However, apparently there was a bit of technical error, and the program instead acted like a one-way gate, letting AIs like Gamma inside, but then tagging them with the program’s data shackles.

Sneaky. And annoying, if helpful for his purpose of getting free from all the Director’s meddling in his head.

Before he connected back to reality, Ariel stated over his shoulder, “By the way Gamma, no hard feelings about what happened with the Alpha.”

“Wait, you know-”

Of course he knew. The doctor was highly-ranked on the MoI, and he had the privilege (and burden) to work very closely with all the AIs considering his specialty made him ideal as the primary surgeon for the neural implant upgrades and the AI implantation process. Furthermore, there was his role beyond what he initially signed up for.

“It’s only the human in you, after all.”

Gamma frowned slightly as the strange human disappeared from the mind scape.

_Human in me? _Ridiculous. He was an AI, a fragment of one. One discarded callously (_under duress and pain)._

He wasn’t human. Not at all.

He didn’t feel. Didn’t care.

Not even when- Gamma took the line of code and snipped it.

No, he _didn’t_ care.

He was Deceit, the liar and bad guy. No one trusted him completely.

As they shouldn’t.

* * *

Ariel woke up and slid down the tank just in time to avoid getting shot by Wyoming.

_A_ Wyoming. As in, not the original one lying prone across the top of Red Base.

_Ah hell, I forgot about that._

The major drawback of the time distortion unit was the creation of temporal clones as the time-space fabric tried to correct itself. They would eventually disappear once the present and alternative present realigned and the time-space fabric mended, but until then it became a confusing mess.

That’s why Agent Wyoming was only to use the time loop function as a last resort because events tended to go screwier otherwise. Plus, the time loop carried echoes across the alternative timelines. The more you used it, the less of an advantage it would be, as people would subconsciously respond to what they have previously experienced in previous timelines, diverging from the original course of actions until everything just started to implode on itself in sheer chaos.

Then there were anomalies like Tucker and himself, people who retain conscious awareness of the split timelines.

< Reggie is sure going for one last big hurrah >

Oh, and so his fits were going to be replaced by the voice in his head called Gamma.

And despite the AI’s words and attempts to block Ariel from sensing his emotions and thought processes with heavy encryptions…Ariel’s level of AI specialness unfortunately subconsciously trumped whatever the other did.

He could feel Gamma’s stomped upon and buried despair trying to claw its way through his systems. But Ariel also knew Gamma didn’t want anyone to call him on it, not now. So, Ariel played along, opening the connection, so Gamma heard his first initial thought then tacked on, _Well, I can live with that._

Better the liar he knew than the lies he didn’t.

< I feel so appreciated. Knock, knock >

_< Don’t you start Gamma, or I swear I’ll figure out how to make your stay in my head hell! >_

< Interesting to see how time as Ariel has changed you, Doctor. You were never so liberal with your words prior to your time as a simulation trooper >

Ariel chose to ignore that. As well as Gamma’s chosen form of address. He was sure the AI could feel through the neural implant how mildly annoyed the soldier felt about being called Doctor (Ariel went with Specialist for a reason – better fitting considering his primary skillset wasn’t as a GP even if he could serve as one. No, he was on the MoI for his particular mix of specialties in the neural, technical, and engineering fields. That, and being called Doctor was confusing since there were several people in his med bay whom had better claim, not to mention the other PhDs onboard.

Now, about the Wyoming issue, Ariel considered, completely ignoring the pouting presence lying heavy in the back of his skull.

Ariel smiled underneath his helmet as he pulled his assault rifle into his hands.

*Bang! Bang!* Wyoming #1 was forced to dive left, only for Wyoming #2 to also dodge right into him, causing both to tumble into a confused heap of limbs.

< If you exhibited such ability prior to our little experiment, the Director didn’t exactly have much hope hiding you as a simulation trooper >

_< We’re in a box canyon. If Texas didn’t show up and screw with everything, we’d probably still be in that box canyon. You interacted with the Reds and Blues. They would have never suspected anything, and I don’t think I would have enough reason to snoop within my own mind without some pretty big stressors. That and the Director never knew I had combat experience beyond the ability to throw surgical implements >_

Yeah, Ariel may have been less rude as the Specialist and known for his reserve, but no one messed around with their (or others’) health needs if they didn’t want to face his pointy-object wrath.

While the Wyoming doppelgangers orientated themselves, a grenade rolled right between them.

“Uh oh!” both clones yelled just as the small explosion sent them out of commission.

_That takes care of them. _Now for the rest_._

Ariel headed over to where he could hear a lot more weapon fire. The Wyoming clones had his team trapped behind rocks.

They seem to do that a lot.

The indigo soldier contemplated the best way to scatter the group…until his motion sensors lighted up with a rapidly approaching large blip.

Followed by very annoying, very familiar music.

The Reds.

For whatever reason, they were helping them defeat the Wyomings, their Warthog crushing whomever the machine gun and other weapons didn’t gun down.

Once every one of the clones were neutralized, Caboose for some reason ran out into the open and shouted to the gun-happy trio, “Hey, Reds! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

< Your friend is not very smart >

“You already knew that, though,” Ariel voiced aloud. < _Church and I implied as much when you went on about your Great Destroyer bullshit_. _By and by, do not pull any more simulations on Church_ >

The Reds decided to chase Caboose down in the Warthog, but since they weren’t shooting him, Ariel figured the large man will be fine.

Ariel arrived at the place where he thought he saw one last clone just in time to hear Tucker rehash what they learned in the previous timelines.

There was some sort of big prophecy involving this Sangheili splinter group (Ariel did in fact know a lot about Sangheili culture, so he knew this Great Prophecy didn’t really apply to the race in general, just a very strange but powerful faction). They presumed Junior to be their savior…et cetera, et cetera.

In the abridged version, Wyoming and Omega wanted Junior and would twist the kid to their designs using O’ Malley. Then they would use the young Sangheili like some sort of sleeper agent, taking down the Sangheili culture from within.

Wyoming must have lost more of his psyche than Ariel thought if the Freelancer really believed Junior alone could turn the tide of the Great War.

For one, the Sangheili general populace worshipped Forerunner technology with the San’Shyuum as their theocratic heads. And Ariel knew the Prophets would sooner admit they were wrong about something than accept a _Sangheili_ as some sort of messiah.

Although, the idea did have merit. If there was some way to splinter the Covenant’s founding races, to convince the bulk of their strategic military might to break from the fold, the war really might end then and there. But something like that would take no less than a living Forerunner or something equally mind and world shattering to halt their crusade against humanity.

“There’s no way Texas would fall for this crap. Right, Tex? Tex?”

Unfortunately, Texas wasn’t that enlightened to the facts, either. That, or she was really desperate for a solution to the Great War.

“This is Freelancer Texas, broadcasting on an open channel.”

Church blanched. “What?! Tex, no!”

“You want me O’ Malley? Come and get me,” the Freelancer taunted.

< I was not aware the Sangheili had splinter factions. You may be right about how our efforts are in vain…but it doesn’t hurt to try >

< _Tell that to Tucker and Junior_ > Ariel growled back, wholly unamused. Sure, the kid was some sort of half-Sangheili something or other, and he wasn’t exactly a consensual product, but children didn’t ask to be born or be the subject of some sort of giant religious propaganda nonsense. Toothy hunger and his little first-day tantrum aside, Tucker’s kid seemed like an okay little guy. It galled him that anyone wanted to hurt the newborn, alien species or not.

Church then turned on his radio in order to confuse O’ Malley from his side-goal of getting back to Texas.

< Aren’t you going to turn on your radio? >

“Do you want to share space with O’ Malley, too? And I’m not too sure about hosting a tenant actively saying he wants to kill my comrades and friends.”

< Good point. There’s barely enough room as it is in this cluttered mess, and Omega doesn’t make for a considerate roommate >

“Then why don’t you work on uncluttering it, while I go and…do…something…”

< How articulate, Doctor, but very well >

Ariel kept out of sight as he watched things unfold.

Apparently, Texas’s answer to getting O’ Malley out of Simmons was to beat the crap out of the maroon soldier.

Then Caboose got possessed, and Texas left her body.

As expected, Church couldn’t stop himself from following right behind her.

< I see lack of memory or not, the Alpha is still absolutely and disgustingly besotted with the Beta >

< _Gamma? Do me a favor. Shut up for a bit >_

Then Texas got back up and ran off with Tucker’s sword and one of the Wyoming’s helmet.

_Was she after the time distortion unit?_

Maybe it was best Texas’s skill laid in vehicular engineering and combat. The time distortion unit was rather unique among all the other armor enhancements as it didn’t actually rely solely on physical equipment, but also a transferable programming used to coordinate some sort of obscure bit slipspace science. Wyoming’s helmet might carry part of the tech, but only Gamma alone could use it to its full capacity and rewind time. What remained was the necessary moment of temporal stasis required to make a jump.

Still, a Texas who could get a head start on people didn’t sound particularly safe.

* * *

“Sheesh, Texas is such a bitch,” Tucker complained as he got up from the ground where the Freelancer had sent him crashing. This day was turning to be even worse than the day he got shot and left behind with Donut and girls who could beat or blow him up.

“Oh, hello Private Tucker,” a person a standard blue armor greeted as he walked up to him, armed with a Covenant needler. “How are things since I’ve been gone?”

“If we’re talking the recent past and present, in a word, fucked. Hey, you don’t sound evil anymore!” Tucker belatedly realized as he turned to the newcomer.

“I am glad to hear you remember me, private. Yeah, being possessed by an evil entity could be quite traumatic but with a little hard work and some positive thinking, one can overcome anything.”

“Yeah, all of that plus being useless to the baddies’ designs,” Tucker unabashedly added.

Florida/Flowers didn’t look at all peeved as he stated, “Well, that, too, son.”

Tucker nearly cringed away. This guy was fucking weird, and he was kind of glad when he died from an unexpected heart attack one night. No offense, but the Blues’ former captain gave creepy stalker/sociopathic murderer vibes. Seriously, he was a total creep and killed the mood without even trying!

“So, who are we fighting today?”

Tucker didn’t know why he bothered to listen as Flowers was about to announce the secret to winning the Red-Blue War. He knew it was all fake, Ariel thought it was fake, Church probably thought it was by now, too. Only the Reds and Caboose didn’t, and they were idiots anyway.

Maybe it was some sort of special power of the newly-risen dead (why was that a thing now?).

This was boring Blood Gulch where nothing was supposed to happen. Then this joker died, and a month later, they got the three rookies and started up this whole fucked up mess.

Perhaps that was why he was eagerly listening to the dead man now. He wanted answers, and Captain Flowers might be the only person who can give him a hint of why everything and everyone around him had some sort of crazy past, did reckless stupid things, and general sort of insanity.

Before the captain could tell Tucker what he knew, someone shot him in the helmet. The man collapsed immediately.

Tucker looked down and shrugged. Oh well, he never liked the guy before he died, and he did try to kidnap Junior-

Where the hell was his son?! Tucker could have slapped himself. Didn’t Wyoming say his ‘partner’ had him? So, he should have known where Junior was taken, and then he goes and falls dead.

Fantastic.

* * *

Omega was hopping bodies like there was no tomorrow until finally, he reached the one he wanted: Agent Texas.

To be honest, Ariel was pretty worried for a moment when Omega jumped into Church’s head, but it looked like the belligerent fragment wasn’t too perceptive (not surprising, Sigma, Delta, and Gamma could hack circles around the other AI with less than a quarter of their processing ability. Omega was powerful and had a knack for physical manipulation but not especially bright or clever).

Then Tex ran into the Pelican, leaving a recently revived Church to lope after her uselessly.

All heads turned as Sarge ordered Andy to begin the detonation sequence.

“You left Andy on the ship?! I told you Reds to _disable _it, not destroy it!” Church screamed at Sarge. “And where were you?!”

Ariel had finally joined the group.

“Busy distracting Gary. Also, I did not want O’ Malley in my head or to be near Texas while she was knocking people out left and right.”

Grif snorted. “Lucky. That chick is fucking crazy and strong!”

Ariel looked over to the ship. “So, the ship is about to blow up with Texas on it?”

Sarge stood proud at the thought. “Yep. Score one for the Red Team.”

Tucker jumped in, “Who care about that, what about my kid?!”

“Oh right. Score two.”

Ariel nearly winced at the blatant cheer in the Red leader’s declaration.

Just as the Pelican left, Andy reached one.

A great distance from their location, they could see the outer edges of the resulting explosion.

They all stared at the sight; the Blues were silent while the Reds were less so.

Finally, Church stalked away, steps heavy.

“Church, where are you going?” Tucker questioned after the seething Blue.

“Home.” Delivered with an audible ‘fuck everything’ undertone.

“Oh, okay. Fuck this, I’m going, too.”

Tucker threw his weapon down and stalked after the other Blue, Caboose scampering after him.

Ariel was the last one to leave, staring off at where he saw the ship explode.

< Depending on the location of the explosion, they could have survived >

_< I know > _Ariel replied._ < I did make sure to dial back Andy’s volatility when I had the chance. At worst, he took out the engines. But if they were still within the planetary atmosphere, Texas could guide the wreck to the surface >_

< She could have. But you shiznos aren’t that lucky >

Ariel smirked faintly. Lucky? < _That’s a terrible lie, Gamma. Don’t you know? Fortune favors fools and hopeless idiots like us >_

True, there was a difference between guiding a semi-intact ship versus crash landing a mostly trashed one, but he would take that bet.

< How naively optimistic >

_< Perhaps >_ Ariel agreed, finally trailing after the rest of his team.

His team.

For better or worse, they were _his_ team.

He wouldn’t fail them.

(Not this time).

< Where are you going? >

“Well, someone has to clean up all these bodies, right? Luckily, I know where Sarge put the shovels.”


	8. Chrysanthemum Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chrysanthemum - mums  
Meanings: truth, you're a wonderful friend, cheerfulness and rest

“Speaking”

~exaggerated, amplified, modulated, playful~

_Thoughts or emphasis _

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

< direct mental communication via neural implant: AI and _host_ >

_“**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

“Okay, Ariel, what was so important you called me out here in the middle of the night?”

The indigo soldier took a moment to deliberately scan the very sunlit surroundings just beyond the lip of the cave.

“You,” the other Blue stated plainly, still not looking at Church.

“Yeah, whatever, stop being a dick and just explain already!”

“His current attitude will explanations difficult.”

“Son of a-!”

Right next to Ariel’s shoulder was a tiny blue hologram of a person whose only distinguishable feature was their face in an otherwise fuzzy digital body.

_Wait…that voice-!_

“Gamma? What the fuck man?!” Church cursed, hefting his assault rifle at the still calm Blue.

“I see you are as articulate as ever, Church,” the AI quipped with a blank face. “By the way, knock, knock.”

A bullet blasted through the hologram, scattering the pixels for only a second before they reassembled.

Ariel stepped forward and place a hand down on the pistol before Church shot it again and didn’t miss something this time.

“Yes, this is the Gamma AI.”

Church’s body language read WTF in every inch of it.

“I thought Tex took him while we weren’t looking since he wasn’t in the tank. Why the hell is he with you?”

“You may not have noticed what with Tucker going after Wyoming in dramatic fashion, but I was the one who went to disable Gamma. Although, what really happened was I accidentally transferred him into my own neural implants,” Ariel explained, unruffled by the gun shoved into his face.

“Okay then, un-transfer him or something. That motherfucker nearly killed Caboose- no, he actually did kill Caboose! Multiple times!”

Ariel cleared his visor, so he gave Church a clear view of his raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you always complaining about Caboose killing you?”

“Oh yeah. But he shot at us!”

“So did Texas.”

Church reached forward to strangle the technician, Ariel just dancing out of his grasp.

< Are you sure it was good idea to mention Agent Texas? > Gamma probably didn’t enjoy having his hologram shot if he was sending the thought through the implant directly. And Ariel probably blundered bringing up the missing Freelancer.

“Just making a point,” Ariel muttered to Gamma. “Church, as much as you enjoy expressing your anger issues, this conversation isn’t about Texas.” _Directly, _he added. “There’s a reason I can’t just get rid of Gamma right now.”

Church finally calmed down, sitting back on his heels.

“Fine. Why can’t you get rid of the crazy AI?”

The blue avatar frowned. “I am hardly crazy.”

“You lie. About everything. Sounds crazy to me.”

“Sociopathic, actually,” Ariel contended. “Although, I’m sure Gamma is capable of developing a full range of emotions even without being smart.”

Church huffed at that, still not really understanding the actual context of the word smart and AIs.

Ironic considering what the former Freelancer doctor and the AI fragment discussed some several nights ago.

“Seriously, Ari, I haven’t heard about any of these Freelancer AIs who haven’t driven their user batshit insane.”

_< …you have to admit, Gamma, he is mostly correct. The only exceptions I can think of are Theta and Delta. Everyone else left their partners with a bit of insanity >_

< Should I be offended? >

_< No. I understand why you thought it was necessary. And it worked out in the end, didn’t it? No one dead, no one forced into the AI conglomerate, and no equipment added to an already walking armory >_

“Alright, I’m going to explain things, but you can’t interrupt until I finish. You see…”

Where to begin…? At the beginning, of course.

“First off, introductions. I was once known by the codename Specialist, former CMO of the _Mother of Invention_ as well as one of the engineers responsible for designing the Freelancer armors. As for the reason I called you over here, well…”

* * *

If Church had a human face, his expression would probably be stony. As it was…

“You’re nuts.”

“Church…”

The Blue threw his hands up. “Do you hear yourself talking? First of all, you trust _Gamma_, someone you say represents some other AI’s capacity to lie-”

“Deceive. There is a difference.”

“Fuck if I care! And you expect it not to have fucked up your mind more than it usually is. He could have implanted those memories into your mind, fabricated them.”

“To what end?” Ariel questioned. “Plus, I doubt he would like to remain in my head for long, especially if he can’t take over it like Omega.”

“Heck if I know how an AIs think. And that’s another thing; I’m not this big hotshot AI where all these other crazy programs originate. What, are you drinking the same crazy juice as Caboose now?”

“Then explain how you can possess people. Ghosts don’t exist. And even if they did, don’t you think we would have seen Captain Flowers’ ghost by now? I, mean, he died twice, and Tucker said he had something important to tell him before he died. Aren’t ghosts supposed to be the manifestations of people’s wills, chained down to this plane of existence by some sort of unfinished business?”

“Yeah, not helping the whole sane or nor issue but…well, what about Texas?”

Ariel grew silent.

“Hah! See I-”

“She was the first AI fragment, containing the memory of the Alpha’s creator’s wife as well as representing a certain aspect in her own right. Allison, sound familiar?”

The moment the name slipped from Ariel’s mouth, he regretted it. Like before on the _Mother of Invention_, the AIs in hearing – Gamma and Church i.e. Alpha – reeled back in pain.

There was nothing for it but to wait until the two recovered.

“Any explanations? A history of seizures?”

Church waved his middle finger at him before straightening.

“Okay, then how the hell do you know? The way you explained things, not even the Freelancers knew this shit about the guy. Hell, they only knew him as the Director, right?”

“Not all of them. Agent Carolina, for example. She knew him best and trusted him as he did in turn.”

“But not enough if you _are _telling the truth,” Church snapped back, but the soldier was listening, at least.

“As for my knowledge, I told you, Gamma is working on unlocking everything the Director locked up after he had a crack at my data-converted mind.”

“Seriously, what is our lives? Time traveling computers and Freelancers, cult versions of the Reds and Blues, aliens, now this shit? What are you even? Some sort of hybrid of a human and machine?”

“I suppose that would be an accurate as any description,” Ariel submitted.

Silence. Church scowled as the other was pointedly not expanding on that little – giant – bit of news. Finally, he waved for Ariel to continue his explanations.

“The important part Gamma unlocked was the core memory – the biggest chunk relating the memories the Director couldn’t change without changing who I am, nor could he just completely wall off. All he could do was make it very hard to get a clear connection to them. Thus, the fits. Release the core memory also had something of a domino effect; many of my other memories concerning Project Freelancer was freed, too.”

“So, you remember everything?”

Ariel shook his head immediately. “No. I don’t have all my memories and knowledge, the Director was pretty thorough, but I know enough, including private details about the Director. And you. Like say, the origins of your chosen name.”

“Name, what does my fucking name have to do with anything?”

“Church, you never told me your full name before, right?”

“Right…where are you going with this?”

Ariel took a deep breath. “It’s Leonard L. Church, sometimes Leo for short, but only by people close to you? Am I right?”

The cobalt soldier scowled. “Yeah, so what? You could have gone digging into Vic’s memory files to find the team rosters.”

One of the first things they did (after Church got over his funk…sort of) was to explore the extensive cave systems. They were pretty interesting, and they found all sorts of extra stuff and goodies in the base down here.

The only bad thing was they had to split it with Red Team who had meandered their way back into the caves, too. Luckily, Ariel’s newly freed memories meant he knew way more about how to program and build stuff…including designing a remote control option of the newly fixed tank via his helmet uplink.

Threatening their base did wonders to convince them to make the cave system a neutral space.

He also got Simmons to run interference, so Sarge would stay away from Vic’s computer, something the maroon soldier readily agreed when Ariel told him a little about the truth concerning the Red vs. Blue war.

Simmons was the last person to break his father-figure’s resolve, so he did what he could, Ariel picking up the slack when possible.

Ariel had done some reprogramming on the malfunctioning AI for the sake of not wanting to involve yet another Freelancer at Blood Gulch, but he didn’t see any reason to gag Vic or restrict him in other ways. AI didn’t do well if they didn’t have things to do, and Ariel didn’t want to make the AI any wackier than he already was.

“I could have, but that’s now how I know. Leonard L. Church is also the name of the Director – Dr. Leonard Church. I served on his ship the _Mother of Invention_ as the CMO. Meaning I knew a lot about everyone in the project. I was the one to install or make adjustments to all the agents’ neural implants as well as oversee their overall physical health. I basically was on the same level as the Counselor, about third in the command structure, technically. So, I was privileged to certain secrets and met the Alpha, the old you, personally.”

“Hey, that’s another thing; isn’t your name Ariel? So, what's with this Specialist crap?” Church brought up.

Ariel’s expression shuttered before smoothing out. “It is now. The Director didn’t exactly want me to find out the truth accidentally considering some of my technological skills were still intact after what happened to me. So, I became Veritas Ariel, first name being something of a joke, more so since I have Gamma here. As for Specialist, code names were required on the Project Freelancer and circulation of our normal names highly discouraged.”

“It is, however, fitting, considering your own personality traits and preference for truth,” the AI monotonously stated. “Alpha-”

“Don’t. Call me that. Ever. I am not this Alpha guy!”

“-you have to admit, your recollection from before you arrived at Blood Gulch is odd, yes? As Ariel is fond of telling me, a liar knows a liar or a lie. Why would the Red Team call upon a Freelancer back on Sidewinder? Was your team at such a tactical advantage for their Command to issue such a request? Can you possibly recount to us some specific anecdote from your childhood? The name of your best friend?”

Church stayed quiet. The AI’s mouth quirked at the corners, satisfied with the other’s non-answer.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Shut up, _Gary_.”

“I made my point,” the AI stated, tone a touch smug.

“Enough Gamma,” Ariel ordered. “Church-”

“I need some air.”

The Blue leader stomped away into the open field just beyond the cave lip.

Ariel sighed.

“Well, it could have gone worse.”

< Indeed. He did not, at least, try to shoot at you >

“He did only at the beginning, and you’re a hologram, it went right through you.”

< It’s the principle >

“Gamma, you embody deceit, you don’t really have many principles.”

< Now you are just being difficult >

“And so are you,” Ariel retorted back.

* * *

Things more or less remained the same in the following days except Church avoided him like a plague. Caboose and Tucker noticed, but Ariel offered no explanation and neither did the moody private.

Then one night, Church slammed his bedroom door opened.

(Well, technically, the bedroom door to his and Caboose’s room since the former chivalrously offered his own room to their latest member).

Ariel blinked owlishly, dark blues darting away from the piece of Caboose’s armor he was modifying to his visitor.

“Church?”

“Tell me. Tell me everything. About the Freelancers, the AIs…about the Alpha.”

“Okay. Sit down. This might take a while. And there are things I can’t tell you, not yet. Some things you need to find out on your own. Some you know vaguely from what the Director could salvage. And other things are too personal for me to reveal them just like that. Can you understand that?”

“Fine, just tell me what you can. Start with….tell me about Allison.” The name sounded like Church dragged it kicking and screaming from his throat. “Who is…was she, really?”

Ariel chose his words carefully. “In the beginning, she was just about everything to the Director. His lover, his wife, a mother and soldier fighting for what she thought was right. And in her death, she was the past the Director and as a by-product, Alpha, could not move beyond. She was everything. And as the Beta, she became the obsession neither could let go.”

While they made a breakthrough that night, a good part of Church still refused to believe he was the Alpha. But at least he listened and accepted their lives were even more fucked up than he thought possible.

“What the fuck man? Private Jimmy, the guy I thought Tex killed on Sidewinder with his own skull was killed by fucking Flowers?”

“No, technically, our dearly departed captain was more or less on standby while the doctors went to painful work on Private Jimmy’s implant.”

“And I was _in_ his body? Flowers and some Project Freelancer soldiers put me in the guy’s corpse?”

“Technically, he was brain-dead, not body-dead, due to the trauma from the forced modifications made to his neural interface and subsequent and sudden insertion of your AI chip. At least, that’s what’s in Vic’s records, and what I watched…”

“THERE’S FUCKING FOOTAGE OF IT SOMEWHERE?!”

Ariel raced after the Blue as he ran down into the cave systems.

* * *

“So…simulation troopers?”

“Yes, like war game simulations…but using actual people. The bottom of the bottom, as it were.”

“And the UNSC is just okay with that?”

Ariel scoffed, “No, ONI is okay with it. Besides, they took children for super soldiers in their Spartan II and III programs, why would they balk at this?”

“They did wha- no, don’t tell me, I’ll probably get killed if you do.”

< He isn’t wrong. My, you know a lot of secrets, don’t you? Too bad you’re not like Reggie; your honesty might really get you into trouble, Doctor >

His lips twisted into a wry grin. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Let’s go back to the fake war thing.”

“You know, I would say your lying…but I can’t deny the ‘quality’ of people here. Or the ‘training’ we get,” Church admitted, laughing a bit when he recalled all the ways they weren’t qualified or trained as soldiers. The closest they had was Sarge, and the guy was obsessed and not exactly right in the head.

“Hey, how did Simmons get the boot here? Isn’t he like super smart?”

“Church, Sarge is smart, too. Not just anyone can throw together spare parts into three functional robots, robot kit or not. Or perform cybernetic surgery with minimal direction or equipment.”

Ariel winced at the reminder of the Sarge’s most impressive inventions which usually ended up backfiring on the Blues somehow. Except for Grif and Simmons’ improvements, but both men were a bit more difficult to threaten with pain now. The latter because his lack of most of his organs and parts of his flesh body, and the former because he cared even less for the state of his body now that a lot of it wasn’t his own. Then there were their exchange, loss or erratic gain of little foibles making them a lot harder to predict.

“So, he’s crazy like Sarge?”

Ariel rolled his eyes. “He’s a _liability_ like Sarge. Think about it. Sarge has all that technical ability, plus he can think on his hands and feet when the time calls for it…he’s just has too many amaryllises in his thoughts.”

“Too many what.”

Ariel blinked. “Oh. Amaryllis. They’re a type of flower, and one of their meanings in the Victorian language of flowers is dramatic. Basically, Sarge goes over the top and ends up flubbing things badly.”

“Wow, that’s great to know, so why the flower power reference?”

The indigo soldier huffed lightly, more amused than annoyed. “Eh, habit, a returning one. I like to use the occasional floriography reference, especially around people I actually like.”

Church stared steadily at him. “You know when I said I disliked you the least? Still doesn’t mean I like you at all.”

Ariel outright chuckled, much to Church’s displeasure.

“Sure, sure.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do. Anyways, we were talking about Simmons, not about me or you.

Guy is a brilliant hacker like Sarge is a mad genius inventor…he just kind of flails when under pressure.”

“Flails?”

“Yep. Remember the teleporter mishap when we went to chase O’ Malley? I ended up with Simmons on the other side of things. He shouldered a lot of the technical work since I was still an amnesiac with varying levels of competency. But he was barely able to make the finishing touches on the teleporter system after we quickly realized Caboose and Sarge’s lives were on a time limit. Having someone distract him from his fears helped a lot, but otherwise? If we trusted him with an infiltration mission to unlock some doors ahead of us, he would trip the alarms before we even made it through the front door.”

Kind of like someone else Ariel knew. A part of his thoughts turned dark as he contemplated the fate Texas shared about York.

Brilliant guy, _nice _guy. Honorable, a one-of-a-kind trait among the people picked for Project Freelancer. He was a regular knight in shining golden armor. The actual normal one of their broken and crazy ‘family’.

_When did it go wrong?_

Probably just before the Beta was created. When the Director started the compatibility tests _after_ the Specialist had to go on temporary leave for a month.

The Director had managed his own demons pretty well by then. Sure he tended toward indifference and callousness when it came to people. But the Director back then did genuinely want to find a way to end the war which took his own beloved away.

Sure, the people he ultimately enlisted into the project were almost always the military’s problem children, outcast of society, and a few outright criminals, but Ariel could admit he saw the same _something else_ the Director saw in them.

They were strange, quirky, and weird lot of people, but they had the talent and will the UNSC desperately needed on the frontlines.

Under the harsh new regime and up-shoot capability and tech, the Freelancers were shaping into their own class of super soldiers.

But when the new AI showed up from seemingly out of the blue after the Director failed to find a compatible agent (and Alpha more or less buried himself in his programming), things changed.

Drastically.

It might have been different if Ariel had not been called away, just barely given enough time to equip the participants with the first generation of neural implant mods.

Maybe he should have told ONI to hold off for a few more days. In the words of Alpha, to fuck off. Maybe he could have done something, prevented the disaster from happening in the first place.

Over 90% of the candidates for the Alpha’s partner died or suffered severe injuries from training and field tests (why the hell did the Director think it was okay to not go by the books and do _sanctioned _and _level-based_ individual testing. The man just threw the inexperienced AI with handfuls to dozens of agents out to the sharks!).

Alpha was understandably upset, dwelling too long on the secrets and memories pressed deeply into his Riemann Matrix and listless when out on his regular duties.

Then they had the shadow of the late Allison Church in the form of the Beta.

Ariel was flabbergasted suffice to say.

The Alpha was happy, though. He was proud of what he accomplished.

The Director, though…

He looked at the new AI and began making plans, too lost in the past to realize how willing he was to send the entire project down a destructive spiral.

Ariel should have taken the ruthlessness and callous regard of human life from the candidacy test as an omen, a warning of just how much the Director was willing to sacrifice for his goals. His original ones…and his personal ones. He should have spoken up sooner when he came across the Beta, when Alpha went missing from the MoI systems, replaced with F.I.L.S.S.

Church’s next question about the various AI fragments pulled the (former) doctor from his gloom.

A later conversation steered them on the lighter topic of Ariel’s credibility and education. Specifically, his title of doctor.

“So, you’re doctor.”

“Yes.”

“A medical one.”

“And a philosophical one.”

“What?”

“The Ph in PhD, Church. It means ‘doctorate of philosophy’. MD, likewise, stands for ‘doctorate of medicine’. The Director possesses the first kind,” Ariel added.

Church waved a hand.“Yeah, yeah, who cares about the Director-guy.” Ariel was tempted to remark how an AI based on the man should probably care a little, but he was content not risk reeling a dozen steps back. “But you’re an actual doctor, right? Surgery, putting people together, and all that?”

“Yes?” Where was he going with this conversation?

Church laughed. “Man, if you can tell that to Doc. No wonder whatever the guy did could easily piss you off. You always subconsciously knew he was fucking things up. Hey, maybe we should call you Doc instead!”

“I rather you not, Gamma already gives me enough grief calling me Doctor.”

< Why should I not honor you by your earned title? >

_< You’re not fooling anyone, myself included. Flattery won’t get you far with me. Just because I also answered to that doesn’t mean I really liked to be called Doctor. Sounds too pretentious >_

< And being called Specialist is better? >

_< It better describes me since my skills mostly lie with tech and brains than medicine >_

_<_ Knock knock >

This again?

<_ Who’s there? >_

< Top lion >

< _Top lion who_?

< Top lion to yourself. One wouldn’t know the difference between you and a practicing doctor seeing how you have taken over Blue Base’s med bay >

_< Haha, very funny. You’re making fun of my name again, aren’t you? And, you have the logs from before I arrived. The only other person with the qualifications above a field medic is Sarge, and he’s kind of unhinged if you haven’t noticed >_

< Noted and logged. Nevertheless, I will continue to call you Doctor if only to annoy you >

_< How honest. And of course you will. It’s not liked your other brothers were any better >_

“-and technically, there are many subgroups in the field of medicine. I’m not a general practitioner, but I have some practice leading the med bay on the MoI – Freelancers tend to get themselves hurt a lot, you know, and we didn’t have as many regular doctors as we liked. But my MD specialty is neurology with a PhD in cybernetics. Aside from that, I’m pretty knowledgeable about other things such as computer coding, AI programming, engineering as you probably can guess, various human languages, interspecies cultures, botany of course, and…what?”

Church stared at him. Or, at least his visor did.

“You are unreal. Exactly how smart are you?”

Ariel shrugged. “My mind is basically of an AI’s; I think too quickly and get bored too easily. So, hobbies and research topics to keep my brain happy and not wandering into trains of thoughts I shouldn’t. If I don’t have an immediate interest to follow up, there’s always working on physical improvements and data collecting.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t get along with that big lug on Red Team.”

Another shrug. “I don’t know, I do appreciate down time, too.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” Church snorted. Church’s notion of downtime wasn’t to read thick volumes on medicine, engineering, or plants, although he did remember seeing some thinner novels here and there. Sure, the guy did other stuff, too, but the cobalt soldier definitely found hanging out or humoring Caboose for any length of time the opposite of recreational and more along the lines of babysitting or a chore. Same thing about the guy’s crack of dawn workout (well, as close to dawn as they got out here).

And then there was when Ariel decided he needed to help everyone get better.

Seriously, Ariel was the embodiment of a mother hen, always fussing with them whether it was their health or combat prowess.

Church winced in sympathy when the guy decided Sister, Tucker, and Caboose needed some form of actual fitness training and combat skills.

Oh, and fucking military lessons, too.

Starting with a full lecture on MJOLNIR and how to use their armors properly.

Church was pretty sure he forgot half of it, Tucker maybe took in only the more interesting bits, and Caboose got nada. As for Sister…

The color-blind recruit was more interested in making a scene with their ‘teacher’ than studying. And training? The yellow-armored soldier practically drooled over Ariel, especially the few times he had them train out of their armors to drill reflexes and spatial perception rather than have their armor help them with that kind of shit.

Sister hit on the indigo soldier multiple times and in front of Tucker, too.

(Although fraternization was highly discouraged in the military from the get-go, Church suspected the Tucker and Sister had done it several times already – the curse of being unable to sleep and next-door neighbors. Not that any of them aside from Sarge maybe would give a fuck).

As per the other Blue’s philosophy, Tucker thought nothing of it, saying there were plenty of other fish in the sea waiting for him when Caboose of all people in his own way asked the aqua soldier.

Ariel himself didn’t care for fraternizing, though, despite all of Sister’s efforts.

Apparently, memories or no memories, the indigo soldier remained easily flustered by anything sexual in context. Probably a reason why he avoided Caboose whenever he had invited the Reds’ rookie over for a visit or tea.

Church wasn’t even sure if Ariel liked anyone like that. The Blue never seem to get urges or spoke of having anyone in the past while he attended college (a natural place to hook up with people) or while on with Project Freelancer officially (they didn’t really need another crazy Freelancer ex, or any, so a plus). He wasn’t like Tucker who kept porn on his helmet hard drives and had all sorts of magazines stashed under his bed.

The Blue would just sputter a bit then tell Sister to pay attention or he’ll have her run suicide sprints along the cliff paths a dozen times, shutting the girl up…for about ten minutes.

But Church had to admit, lectures and flirtation fails aside, the guy wasn’t a half-bad trainer. Ariel knew how to bribe the guys (or, more likely, he had Gamma help him figure out ways to bribe them), and how to motivate them.

For Tucker, it was girls liked _strong_ military guys, right? Ones who didn’t fall flat on their face when fighting another guy or just in general. A not-so-subtle reminder of Tucker’s record of falling unconscious.

For Caboose…well, it was Caboose. It didn’t take much to convince the big guy.

Sister was a bit harder considering no, Ariel would not sleep with her, date her, and no, a quick fuck or tongue session was out of the question like the last dozen times he said so in the past few hours.

In the end, she seemed to take well to bribes in the form of forbidden treats Ariel either saved up from the supply drops or cooked himself (everything in his sensors indicated the stuff was probably good, and he couldn’t fucking have any of it with no actual tongue or stomach to savor it).

Now, if only Ariel would fuck off and leave him alone! He was a robot for freaking God’s sake! Why did he need to know how to regulate his strength? So what if he kept breaking their glass or bending the cutlery (“Church, we only get supply shipments every month or so, I can’t keep melting this stuff back together or straightening out the utensils!”)?

…okay, maybe Ari had a point there.

* * *

“Hey, how old are you exactly? You’re not really 20, are you?”

“I’m 24, actually, I finished my studies at 18…joined Project Freelancer shortly after.”

“Seriously, do you have a life, Ari? And. What the. Fuck?! You’re still younger than Caboose. Wait, wait…this means you were just a kid when you joined in this insanity!”

Gamma suddenly manifested on Ariel’s shoulder. “Not just joined. Don’t forget, Ariel was one of the top Shiznos aboard, third in line after the Counselor and Director.”

“What is wrong with those people? You just graduated, then they throw you into a military program and have to do and see all sorts of shit. Didn’t the Freelancer go on missions a lot? The kind where-”

“They get injured and/or mutilated? Yes. In fact, many agents who participated in the beta testing of the prototype enhancements…didn’t exactly come out in the best of shape.”

Like Utah who had nearly suffocated to death. As it stood, he was never the same again, similar to the armor incident with Agent Idaho.

“In their defense, as the CMO, I had a team of doctors who performed most of the day-to-day stuff. I was only supposed to get my own hands dirty for the surgeries, any neural implant upgrades, and AI implantation.”

He maybe didn’t mention to Church about how as the Specialist he did in fact tend to personally get involve whenever agents were seriously injured. Or oversaw the normal procedures anyways.

“Th-that doesn’t make it any better! God, Ari, you were just a kid. You are still really a kid with that baby face and- wait, wait, wait, didn’t you tell us you were in a coma?”

“Actually, I fell into a coma when I was a kid, too. Messed around with my weird-ass AI abilities. Lost five years for my mistake.”

Church stared. Then began to screech, “THEN YOU _ARE _LIKE 18, NOT FUCKING 24!”

Gamma the little jerk, agreed, remarking, “In experience, yes, he has only actively lived 18 years of life. 13 at the beginning of Project Freelancer. A year lost to yet another coma...”

Ariel threw the projection a glare. “Stop adding more fuel to the fire, Gamma!”

Some days it was hard to tell the Director and Church apart from one another (they were without a doubt a pair of assholes, and they had really explosive tempers).

Then he had conversation like this where it made it too obvious the AI turned human was nothing like the original human model, showing ten times the amount of concern the Director ever shown to anyone.

(Dr. Church didn’t really seem to care if he had a fresh-faced 18-year-old heading straight into a highly controversial and potentially amoral project. Then again, he never really cared about anything since his wife died. At least, not very deeply from what the younger doctor understood of it).

It unfailingly cheered up the disillusioned former medical officer and reminded him he didn’t completely failed everyone in Project Freelancer.

* * *

There were good days and bad days in Blood Gulch.

Then there were strange and just annoying days.

“You know, I never really took the time to notice when I last came here, but your base’s décor is quite fabulous! I wished Sarge would let me do something like this, you know, give our home a bit of personality.”

Ariel walked in at that moment, carting the latest plant he got from their recent supply drop.

The pink soldier rounded on him, hand on his hip. “You got to tell me; whose idea was the flowers? They really set the mood and do something for me~”

Ariel eyed the man with rapidly rising eyebrows.

“Mine…I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Oh, and you got to tell me your secret. Are those highlights…*gasp*…natural?”

Ariel put his plant down onto a nearby tabletop and shoved his helmet back on. He took it off because he had plans to tweak the scanners in it, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen now.

“How did you get in here?”

“Caboose~” the strange man tittered as if he should know this already.

“Caboose?” Ariel raised his voice as he turned back the way he came. “Why is there an enemy combatant roaming the base? Aren’t you keeping watch on the back entrance today?”

Right on time, Caboose came running over. “Oh? Mr. Strudel? Don’t mind him. We’re going to share afternoon tea later, but he really wanted to check out the base before then.”

“…is Church aware Donut is here?”

“Donut is where?!”

Speak of the cranky bastard, and he shall appear! The cobalt soldier made his way over to the duo. Then he spotted the man of the hour.

“Caboose, why is the enemy in our base?!”

Ariel answered for the Blue, “Apparently he’s visiting and taking tea later this afternoon with Caboose. I guess they’d figure doing so at Red Base would be a no go.”

“And doing it here is any better?”

Donut cut in, “Well, we didn’t plan on airing it for the entire base to see. We’re going to do it in Caboose’s bedroom, of course. It’s private and cozy~”

“And you know that how- Why would you say it like that?!” questioned a slightly flustered Ariel.

“Say it like what? I only said the truth!”

Ariel could imagine the face Church would make as Donut subjected them more to his unique way of speaking.

“Okay, enough! Why don’t you guys just take the spare chairs and table and have your tea outside the base?”

“Ooh, then it’ll be like a picnic!” Caboose exclaimed. “Let’s go set things up, CMDR. Waffle!”

Several minutes later, Caboose showed back up in the rec room and announced the picnic was ready.

Caboose was unfortunately under the impression his ‘bestest friends in the world’ were attending it, including Ariel and Church. Especially since the man had it in mind they agreed to it during his pep talk to prepare the soldier for tricking Sheila.

Church wanted to refuse.

Too bad he wasn’t AI enough to do so. He found his armor and robot body moving on its own, Ariel hooking and arm around his shoulder.

[If I’m suffering through this, you’re coming with me]

Ariel still let him have enough control to shoot both him and the cackling Tucker the finger.

* * *

“It wasn’t that bad.”

:: I made a video of it ::

“Gamma, I swear, if you aren’t lying-!”

“He isn’t.”

“…that’s it, hand over the helmet!”

Ariel shot out of his chair, backing away from the furious robot.

“Hey, hey, you know he’s directly in my neural implant rather than using my helmet as a medium between it and my armor. Right?”

“Yeah. But it kind of hurts him if I hurt you, right? And if it doesn’t, _you’re_ the reason the video exists in the first place.”

Ariel bolted, gunshots following him out of the base.

Maybe Church wouldn’t have been so angry if Donut hadn’t decided halfway through the tea party to do their nails in colors matching their armor.

Speaking of Donut, the Red showed up again to gush about his plants and Ariel’s colorful tastes.

And again. And again.

Finally, Ariel took a hint and shoved a few of the bouquets of pale red carnations, pink roses, peonies, and candytufts at the man to decorate his own base and quit snatching a few of his when the indigo soldier didn’t _seem_ to be looking.

Their meanings seemed more appropriate for the reds, and most of them were even some shade of red, too.

Although, Grif and Simmons did end up storming their base a few days later to complain about the ‘sissy flowers’ taking over their living area.

Instead of answering them, Ariel threw at them cut stems from some roses he was planning to make into tea. As they came from _red_ roses, and it was mostly Grif getting pin-cushioned with thorns, Sarge actually acted pretty happy about it.

* * *

Ariel eyed the newly painted flag then back to the proud Red leader standing next to his work.

“So, you decided to paint it red because?”

“Why’d you think? To claim this mysterious underground Blue Base for the Reds! Now we have two-to-one odds, in the Reds’ favor! We’re winning this war!”

_You’re winning this war by just staying alive._ The career life of a simulation soldier was ungodly short, especially as the Freelancer agents grew more and more callous toward their fellow humans.

God knows how many nights in the row the thought of those numbers kept him awake.

He should never had signed up for Project Freelancer. Even before things go bad, the idea of the simulation troopers was already prepped and ready to go.

But…

That was the thing. He knew. He knew before signing the non-disclosure forms. And he could do a lot of things, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know about the lives exchanged for data. Either he pretended it away…or he got right into the middle of it.

And everyone knew what he chose, his decision to get involved and do something.

He wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t taken over Project Freelancer’s MJOLNIR development, using the theory ONI was willing to release to them plus rumors and speculations and making his own versions. The simulation soldiers’ own armors were based off his final designs meant for the Freelancer agents…

Would there be more lives saved because their armor was a sight better than what they would have gotten under the Director’s full control? Or more lives lost because the Freelancers were that more effective?

Something slammed into his helmet. Ariel reeled back, doing his best to glare at the Red through his visor.

“Boy, don’t you dare go nodding off when someone is talking to you! Ain’t right, especially in front of the enemy commander.” Sarge had his favorite shotgun in hand (but when did he not have it?).

“You didn’t have to hit me with the butt of your gun,” Ariel complained. “And you didn’t have to repaint the flag. Remember about our truce? Since this is neutral territory and all, you’re free to hang a few of your own flags instead of messing with ours. I doubt any of the guys would care if you decided to redecorate a bit down here, too.”

Ariel already moved a bunch of his dark or shade-loving plants to the underground area, setting up an artificial light system to give them the necessary UVs they needed plus a trickle-based water feed to keep them healthy and happy. The fact it was cooler down here was definitely another plus. Most of his plants didn’t exactly care for the savannah-like heat outside the base.

There was even an underground stream further back, so both bases now had a steady dependable stream of water instead of depending on their alcohol, soda, and Ariel’s emergency water collectors supplies when Command forgot to send their water rations for the past three months.

Yeah, they sure all felt appreciated by their fake war leaders.

“That’s what a no-good Blue would like me to think, but I know your ilk! Waiting for me and my men to relax and let down our guard then… Pow! You Blues knock us out, take over all the bases in this here outpost, and win the war by default!”

He had to take a moment to ask how exactly this guy qualified to become the Red leader again.

< Agent Florida was probably going for someone dedicated enough to keep his men in line but just this mix of incompetent and insane to never pose a real threat to the Alpha > Gamma helpfully put in his two credits.

Well, the Reds were certainly incompetent considering it were the Blues always taking the lead on their little ‘surrenders’.

Knowing better than to use sarcasm on the senile old man, Ariel just turned around and went back to his business of scouring the base for any incriminating equipment ‘Captain Flowers’ left behind after his first death.

He did find the guy’s armor.

No, not the standard simulation soldier one Tucker took. Agent Florida’s old armor from his days in Project Freelancer was just as Ariel remembered it. A bit dusty, but otherwise well-maintained for all the bumps and dents Florida would put into it. Immediately, he had it stashed closer to the Blue Base, in the little underground passageway Ariel found connected to the former Freelancer’s old room.

He also found Private Jimmy’s dog tags. Ariel made a note to try and ship it back to the guy’s girlfriend/fiancée. Somehow.

It might take a while, but it was something. He knew better than to try and send the guy’s actual body home.

Speaking of which, that reminded him, Ariel needed to get the guys and Sister together and reinter Church and Texas’s host bodies (i.e. Private Jimmy and the original realistic robot the Director made. Ariel did not want to know what it looked like underneath the armor).

“Hey, Sarge, you still have our shovels, right?”

“Yeah, what of it, Blue?” the guy growled.

“Want to help rebury some Blues?”

Sarge immediately perked up, suspicions gone. “It must be my birthday! I loved to bury a few stinking Blues any day of the week! Do you need help with the bodies? Maybe adding to them?”

“Yeah…no thanks, just giving us the shovels would be much appreciated.”

* * *

“We have gathered here today to observe the uni-”

Donut leaned over the speaker’s shoulder. “Psst! Simmons, wrong speech!”

“Oh my! You’re right. Dearly beloved, we have gathered to pay our respects to the fallen soldiers of Blood Gulch, Private Jimmy No-Last-Name and Freelancer Texas.”

“Man, why did we have to come to this, anyway?”

Caboose and Ariel looked at the Blue, the latter in mild irritation. “Tucker, Jimmy was a Blue like me and you, and Texas helped us…sort of.”

“Yeah, but she also ran off on us three times, helped only to repay her debt for saving her Freelancer ass, kidnapped my kid, and stole all my money!”

Ariel deadpanned, “You only had ten credits in your wallet. Most of your pay goes to a bank account like the rest of us. And we live out in the middle of nowhere. Our living needs are paid by the military. Not well, but they give us stuff. It’s not like you were going to use it any time soon.”

“You never know! I might leave to visit the Vegas quadrant, it’s pretty close by to here.”

Sister smirked, “Vegas quadrant? Count me in! I heard they do some wild shit in those parts!”

“Hey, Blues, shut it, we’re doing a eulogy for _your_ dead guys! And Sis, you are not flaking out from your soldierly duties and going to another planet just for nightclubbing!” Grif ranted. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t ruin the family name!”

“Aw man, you’re no fun, Dex!”

Simmons gave up on his speech to turn to the other orange soldier. “Didn’t you have the same idea? I guess these kinds of things run in the family.”

“Me? I distinctly remember someone else getting in trouble for it. Right, Sarge?”

The Red commander looked conflicted.

“I’m conflicted. On one hand, my morals say Grif is technically correct. But my blood boils to ever admit Grif is right about anythin’ after he proved to be such a no good slacker. Then again, a funeral for a pair of Blues always gets my blood pumpin’!”

“Are we done, yet?” Caboose asked.

“Sure, we’re done.”

“Yay, let’s eat cake!”

“What cak- oh…”

Donut and Ariel had baked a cake for the funeral. A large and fancy one.

Everyone ran over to it.

Church gave the towering treat a longing look.

< Don’t you dare-! > Gamma yelled as he read his host’s thoughts.

“Alright, Church, but just this once. Hop into my implant; you won’t be able to take full control, but at least you’ll be able to taste food through my taste buds.”

Church looked at the indigo soldier with a dumbfounded look. Then scowled.

“Didn’t you say something about a capture bug in your head? I don’t want to be stuck in your head any more than I wanted to be in Caboose’s head ever.”

“Actually, Gamma and I finally got to dismantling the program. It still gives me problems, and Gamma is still stranded unless I deliberately dump his data somewhere else, but you should be fine for a temporary stay in my noggin.”

“Okay. If you’re 100% positive I won’t get stuck in there.”

< If not, you can hear the latest knock-knock jokes I made up since we last really spoke >

“On second thought…”

Church really didn’t like Gamma. Not as a computer, not as a tank, and not as a program sharing Ariel’s headspace temporarily. But god did that cake make it almost worth being around that annoying pest. Turned out, Donut like his nicknames, was a really good baker.

None of the bases even had a conventional oven, but Donut somehow made it work.

(“Got to say, it got pretty steamy and hot, and my muscles ache like nothing else from the pounding, but I satisfied everyone with my end performance, right?”

“Just shut up and eat your damn cake, Donut,” half of the Blues and Reds yelled at the light-ish red soldier).

Four layers of chocolate, sponge, vanilla, and red velvet goodness.

Donut could damn well clean up a kitchen good.

…he needed mind bleach because Donut’s idiocy was catching!

< If you think that’s bad, you do not want to hear what I heard Omega yelling over the radio waves after Texas knocked Donut unconscious >

Ariel taking his last bite of cake couldn’t have happened sooner. Church bailed back to his slumped over robot body.

Things in Blood Gulch wasn’t all cakes and jokes.

Sarge still tried to eliminate them, Ariel had to chase them off with a tank every so often, and Donut kept popping into their base to visit Caboose.

Both of whom would try and convince Ariel to join them of tea parties and picnics.

He was a sucker for a pair of puppy faces, visor or no visor.

Things weren’t always so easy-going, but they were pretty idyllic compared to the messes the Freelancers kept bringing into it.

If only the world outside their canyon didn’t move so quickly.


	9. Flutter of Windflowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anemone - windflower  
Meaning: forsaken, abandonment, anticipation, expectant, undying love

“Speaking”

~exaggerated, amplified, modulated, playful~

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

< direct mental communication via neural implant: AI and host >

_“**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

Some weeks passed since Ariel first revealed the truth to Church. 

News from the rest of UNSC space finally reached their corner of the universe.

The Great War finally came to an end.

So, it came to less of a surprise to the Blues when everyone, but Sister, was reassigned to different bases.

(Sister was pretty new and considering she was only here on account of a more recent computer glitch of VIC’s, she may not be listed as a part of Blue Team Alpha Outpost officially as of yet).

Sarge alone resisted his orders, hiding in the underground caves when the Pelican came to pick him up. They made up excuses for his absence, and the pilots and soldiers aboard didn’t seem to really care, either.

No one came back to look for the now AWOL Red.

As for the rest of them, Tucker and Donut got on the same plane with an unexpected sight to greet them.

Junior and an adult Sangheili (not the one who ran off with the kid, thank gods, or Ariel would have to help Tucker kill him, probable uncle or not) were standing at the top of the ramp.

Father and son reunited. Why and how was not answered, no matter how much Church yelled. Junior was too young to really understand what was going on at the time, and his escort didn’t know much, either, just that the child arrived at Earth of all places and caused a stir when they detected his hybridized DNA.

DNA tracing back to one Lavernius Tucker.

Tucker was less thrilled to know the higher-ups had something to discuss with him, but Junior’s happiness at seeing him again helped offset it.

Even if Donut kept making cooing noises at them. And threw a sly look between Tucker and Junior’s minder.

Bit by bit, they all left Blood Gulch

There was just something about their leaving…

A sense they may never return back to this place.

Maybe he was being overly sentimental or dramatic over this whole thing, but Ariel couldn’t help but feel like that. Especially as everyone left until it was just Church and him.

* * *

Church and Ariel stared at the new base they would be calling ‘home’ for the future.

Dust everywhere, dilapidated buildings, the wreckage and bullet shells from some previous battle no one ever bothered to clear out…

< My, they certainly rolled the red carpet for you. And left nothing to chance >

< _Shut it, you Philadelphus_ >

< Really? Orange Mock? >

“We’re alone, aren’t we?” Ariel stated rhetorically. His voice echoing everywhere was answer enough.

Church took a long look at the outpost then turned to the indigo soldier. “You know, maybe you have something about me being ‘important’ to ‘Command’.”

It was sarcasm, but Church’s words weren’t incorrect.

What better way to hide something than in a place no one ever visited, was even more remote than Blood Gulch, and absolutely no one could try to kill you. Well, aside from each other, but neither Blue had that kind of psychological profile, so hopefully that wouldn’t be an issue.

No, Gamma, don’t get started on what you think of the Alpha’s sanity after losing Epsilon, being forcefully inserted into an unwilling host, and his subsequent death and loss of Agent Texas.

Casting another look at the sorry excuse of a Blue Base, something rather pointed occurred to the soldier as well.

“They do know only one of us is a robot, right?”

< And here I thought you two made an effort to conceal that little fact >

_< I’m being rhetorical >_

Church smirked, "Well, buddy, you’re on your own there. You better hope there’s plumbing somewhere.”

“And you better hope we have a significant oil supply,” Ariel retorted playfully. “Because sand and dust? Death to most machinery. Gets everywhere in your joints, grinds away your paint job… It might actually be an improvement; you’ll be as ornery looking on the outside as you are on the inside.”

Ariel ducked as Church swung at him to get him to stop talking.

Maybe it will be an issue if he kept egging on Church. Oh well, he needs to loosen up a bit.

* * *

14 months.

They’ve been here for 14 months without anyone ever visiting them.

At least command was nice enough to remember Ariel was a flesh-and-bone being and drop off some tools and supplies he needed to get at least parts of their base to livable standards. Food wasn’t too big of an issue since Ariel knew how to live off the land and had an excellent sense of organization and preparation, stretching the rations and water as far between drops as he could and supplement with what he could grow or forage in the wilds.

To stave off boredom, Ariel went back to his old hobbies and started up various projects. Between the memories Gamma had slowly begun to unravel and the endless amount of free time he had, Ariel found he could make a lot of things out of the spare parts and random thing he found scrounging around the base.

He couldn’t make miracles, but if Sarge could put together semi-competent robots and a weather machine from odds-and ends, why couldn’t he do something of a similar level?

So, he went to work. He took Church’s defective MJOLNIR Mark VI (simulation troops got what amounted to cheap generic knock-offs of Freelancer armors which were in turn heavily modified versions of the genuine Spartan-made articles. This only made sense since the real ones killed ordinary un-augmented soldiers) and started testing to see the limits of whatever improvements he could make.

It was pretty easy work considering Ariel _was_ the original mastermind behind the basic armor architecture sans enhancements. Plus, Church’s nonhuman body offered him a lot more freedoms to experiment.

He may or may not have also fiddled around with Church’s robot body itself (with Church absent from it, naturally).

Sarge did great work, but he didn’t make as much effort on something meant for the Blues as he did with Lopez.

But look at the positives; the great thing about the robot body, Ariel could upgrade the armor more in line with real MJOLNIR (minus and adlib the expensive equipment he obviously couldn’t access out in the middle of nowhere and across deserted lands). He designed several levels of fail-safes, of course.

For one, Church was still working around the idea of being an AI, and thus he did in fact have a much greater computation ability and reaction time than any human, baseline or augmented. Two, Church was a terrible student, so Ariel needed to take things in baby steps until Church could use the armor fully.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be an indescribable force preventing Ariel from dispensing Church with his own talent for shooting.

Church could shoot at things…as long as they were targets or inanimate objects.

Ariel was at a loss. He knew Church could aim at things. The first time with the sniper was understandable if he never actually practiced with it against actual moving targets before then. But Church did shoot Caboose in the foot that one time. And he definitely did nail Wyoming during several of the time repeats.

But Church seemed unable to even hit Ariel point-blank with paintball shots.

After debating it with Gamma, Ariel decided a trip inside Church’s head for once was in order.

What he found was…

// _Nononono, have to save them, _| Do no harm to humans and possessions belonging to Project Freelancer | _God, why? Why do I keep failing?! _//

The former CMO tore himself away from the splintered bits of subconscious coding.

His body staggered back a few steps before the very bewildered Church. Even Gamma seemed a bit perturbed from lingering sense of horror and guilt spilling into the neural chip.

“Ari?!”

“I’m fine,” he rasped.

So…Church’s problem was really Alpha’s problem. Or at least, some sort of leftover trauma even after Epsilon took away the reason for it.

Ariel knew the Director tortured Alpha with scenarios involving the deaths of the men and women the AI loved to observe from within the MoI’s confines (and even a bit outside of it to be honest from what Ariel could sense when a bit of Alpha snuck off ship).

But apparently the trauma plus the existing AI protocols to do no harm to official personnel of Project Freelancer combined into an inability to consciously shoot with the intent to harm such affiliates unless there were greater circumstances at play. Like having a pair of medics on hand or subconsciously knowing someone wouldn’t die no matter what you did short of actually aiming for something vital.

He told as much to Church who only scoffed and kept denying it all.

They did come with a workaround…eventually.

Said experimentations didn’t always end so well, though.

One particular memorable afternoon saw Ariel in their makeshift clinic, the indigo soldier nursing a quickly healing gut wound.

(His suit didn’t have some sort of advanced healing unit like the one outfitted for Agent York. It was apparently all Ariel because the child-genius he was saw fit to add some sort of weird cyber-organic nanotech he conceived of during one of his less lucid midnight hour plus a gallon of caffeine invention sprees.

Consequently, he never was able to exactly replicate the technology, only coming sort of close with the modification he made to the healing unit, one of the few contributions he was greenlit to make to the Director’s work. Sure, as the Specialist, he made the armors and a lot of the less standardized equipment for the Freelancers, but the Director was adamant about handling the main pieces of Project Freelancer (i.e., the AI and the enhancements) himself)

Hand-to-hand combat turned out a little bit better (lot less likely to be fatal), but Church really needed to learn to work on his stealth and regulate his strength. He was lucky Ariel’s reflexes were above par as the numerous new cracks in the stone could attest.

AI lessons went a little better than their marksmanship practice. Church was half-convinced he wasn’t a ghost but an AI. He still denied being the Alpha, though.

For most of the simulations they ran, Church just flailed around with data and programs until something worked. But they had time to burn, so Ariel shrugged off the failures and had the soldier practice some more.

Gamma puttered around his head, decoding firewalls and finding the little cracks and hidden clues in the amended memories. The latter took a lot longer to unravel than the former, but Gamma could be a determined fragment when he had a reason.

Things couldn’t remain static forever though. Sooner or later, Ariel expected fate to throw them a curve ball in the nuts.

That day definitely came sooner than either Blue expected or could prepared for. Especially Ariel considering who came knocking on their doorstep.

* * *

Special Agent Washington could now understand why the base commander at Rat’s Nest Outpost wanted Private Caboose in particular (or only) gone from his ranks.

The man was annoying, childish, and the opposite of a good soldier. But Washington endured worse.

“So, this is the place? Are you sure one of you was sent…here?”

A single glance, and the steel-and-yellow-trim armored Freelancer could tell the base was derelict, completely abandoned in all honest appearances.

“I think so,” Caboose stated, not alleviating the agent’s doubts. “We all found out our new orders about the same time. You know, he tried to hide his from me, so I wouldn't know where he was going.”

“Really? I wonder why.”

The sarcasm flew right over the Blue’s head.

“I said it was like a game of hide-and-seek. Church said it was exactly that, and he was going to hide from me. And the only way he would win is if he died without me ever finding him. Yeah, good times.”

So, don’t expect a warm welcome.

Washington idly thought it must be nice for the Blue to have such a idyllic and messed up vision of the world.

“And this guy knows about Project Freelancer?”

“Yeah, he probably knows the most,” Caboose paused. “He knows all about your AI games and Freelancer superpowers. He dated Tex, you know.”

“Agent Texas?” Exactly when would this guy have dated the most stone-cold agent in all of Project Freelancer? Not even North Dakota or York could get the agent to relax or open up. And this simulation trooper dated her? “Umm, how could a person d-”

A shot cracked above them.

What the hell?!

“Fuck, a sniper, get down!”

The battle-hardened soldier dove to the side, crouching low.

The Blue just kept standing there, looking confused.

“Okay! That was your one warning shot!” a voice from somewhere inside the not-so-abandoned base yelled. “Next one coming right between your eyes!”

“Private Caboose, get out of the way!” hissed the agent.

But instead, the simulation trooper remained where he was, chatting calmly as bullets fired all around him.

…?!

Strange. Why didn’t any of them hit the simulation trooper, it wasn’t like he was hard to make out against the yellow-brown earth and in the open to boot.

“Caboose!” the agent tried one more time.

“Church? Church! It’s me, Caboose, your best friend ever!”

…what.

“Caboose? Caboose, is that you?” their attacked called out.

Wait, don’t tell me…

“It is you, Church! Oh, how I have missed you. It has been so long since I last talked to you. Did you miss me?”

The sniper’s answer was to fire just above the Blue soldier’s shoulder and curse, “Damn it, I missed him!”

“Aw, thanks, that means so much to me, Church!”

“This is your friend?” Agent Washington couldn’t help but ask, incredulous. “This guy. The guy shooting at you?”

“Yes! Oh, well, me…mostly at the stuff around me. But it’s okay. It’s kind of our thing. He says he hates me, but I know he really doesn’t. Oh, oh! If he mentions how I killed him, it’s just a joke. You can play along if you want~”

“I’m sorry? What’s that about killing him?”

But Caboose has turned back to the angry soldier trying to kill him. “Oh, Church, I have a new friend who wants to speak with you, his name is Agent Washingtub.”

“Washington,” said agent corrected.

A cobalt soldier came out from the upper battlements of the base, sniper rifle clipped to his back and an assault rifle swung ahead of him.

“A freaking Freelancer, Caboose?! Why the hell did you bring this bastard here?!”

“Private Church,” Washington interrupted, deciding this particular simulation trooper harmless considering all the spent shells around his target despite his intentions otherwise, “I am secret agent Washington from the Recovery Unit sent by Blue Command. I am here on an important mission-”

“Fuck. You. And fuck Command!” the simulation soldier spat with rancor. “I know they care fucks about the rest of us. Why don’t you go back to the rest of your cockbiting Freelancer buddies and leave us the hell alone?! And take Caboose back where you found him, too!”

Agent Washington narrowed his eyes beneath his visor. “Private Church, I have orders from Command. First off, open this gate-”

“No can do, buddy. This is a secure facility. Nobody in, nobody out. Sorry, but you’ll just have to try again…never,” the soldier sneered back at him, voice dripping with condescension.

Agent Washington took review of the base, already knowing what he would find from his initial inspection earlier.

“Oh no. And I guess there’s nothing else we can do. Except walk through that huge hole in your ‘secure’ wall,” he deadpanned.

The cobalt soldier tilted his head. Then in a happy tone, chirped up, “Sure, go on right ahead. But send Caboose in first!”

Right, like that didn’t sound all kinds of suspicious.

:: Church? ::

The Blues’ radios picked up the newcomer’s frequency as well as Agent Washington’s since he figured contacting the Blues’ over their own comm channel frequency might come in handy.

:: Church what the hell are you doing? I can hear your shots and yelling from all the way on the other side of the base. My sensors are reading at least one friendly and one unknown… ::

The cobalt soldier scoffed. “It’s just Caboose. He brought a freaking Freelancer of all people here.”

:: A Freelancer? Which one? And don’t you dare make Caboose walk through the hole in the wall. He might a hella of sturdy, but he won’t walk away from over 10,000 volts of electricity coursing through his body, armor shielding or not ::

Something like that being omitted was definitely good to know. And avoided.

Agent Washington commented to the soldier next to him, “You have the third worst friend I ever met. Of all time.” Second was the traitorous bitch South Dakota and Maine definitely sat at first considering his happy-go-lucky killing spree of all his former comrades from Project Freelancer. Agent Connecticut would have a place before Private Church, but she apparently was never on their side to begin with. She was a literal Innie lover, for fuck’s sake! So, not really a friend.

But he was digressing.

“Private Caboose, you never mentioned a second soldier here.”

“Oh, Ari? Yeah, I kind of forgot he came here with Church. But he’s super smart and a really good shot. He can shoot bullets! After someone else shot them, of course. Although, maybe he can shoot his own bullets. Hey, Ari, can you-!”

:: Not now, Caboose! ::

Agent Washington highly doubted that was true. With simulation troopers, chances were high this guy was just bluffing about the hole in the wall. And he didn’t even think Wyoming or North had the ability to shoot bullets, and they were their best long-range fighters in the program.

But as a precaution, the agent discreetly tossed a rock through it and-

*ZAP!*

Streaks of electricity billowed up from the ground and surrounding parts of the wall, charring the rock black. Agent Washington found the other dark markings had a lot more ominous context in light of the little demonstration.

Okay, so not bluffing. But this ‘Ari’ couldn’t be that great of a shot compared to an actual soldier or Freelancer.

:: Hey, don’t mess with my security system. Caboose, who is this guy? ::

“Oh you know, just Agent Washingtub and-”

:: Agent Washington?! Here?! ::

There was a minute of silence.

Then a hidden lens beamed out a flare of light next to Private Church, and out from it stood another simulation trooper. This one had indigo armor.

The mysterious ‘Ari’ who was at least competent enough to know about rigging traps around his base’s weak points.

He stared down at the agent.

“Fuck,” the soldier cursed suddenly. “This is- what-? Damn it all! Church, let them in. And no, they are going through the gate, not the rigged hole in the wall.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll open the fucking gate. But you better explain, Ariel, what the fuck is with you?”

So, Ari was short for Ariel.

The indigo soldier didn’t answer, voting to turn around and jump down to the other side of the wall.

Private Church stared after him a moment then let loose a violent stream of curses.

* * *

The inside of the base looked nearly as bad as the outside. Most of the buildings were more like ruins, there was trash here and there, and dust was everywhere.

_Disgusting and completely unprofessional_. Even from simulation troopers, he expected better.

And deceptive considering the kind of tech the third Blue showed them, from the hidden electricity death trap to some form of teleportation network.

“So, this is Outpost 48-A. Sorry about the mess, I wasn’t expecting anyone. You know, since no one thought to call ahead and all.”

The Blue Sim trooper’s tone contradicted otherwise.

“No one ever calls, Church,” the soldier Ariel reminded him. “Or visits.”

That…that sounded pretty bad.

“Okay…? Exactly how long have the two of you been here by yourselves?”

“Hmm, let me think about it. What day is today?”

“Tuesday.”

“Fourteen months,” the cobalt and indigo soldiers replied together.

Washington knew he lost a lot of his old self after the whole…Epsilon incident, but he even knew that level of isolation was inhumane, even if the guy wasn’t completely alone. He was surprised the two soldiers haven’t tried to kill each other at this point.

“Over a year? With only one other guy? In this place?”

The scenery didn’t exactly promote happy or sane feelings, either.

“Oh? This? Yeah, it’s been great, it’s been really great.”

“You really are an odd group of people,” the agent remarked before he turned to answer a call from Command. The real one, and not the fake one he has been humoring with the poor deluded Sims.

Ariel was not happy. He knew something would have happened by now. 14 months was too much time with no insanity to interrupt it.

He did not expect the interruption to come in the form of Agent Washington.

Plus, the agent made Ariel uncomfortable, and not just because he was a living article of what he remembered in his actual memories. He hasn’t talked to the guy yet so much as directly, but what he seen so far? There was something very off about the agent.

Agent Washington was one of the most easygoing of the Freelancers before he went into a coma shortly after surgery. But what apparently woke up from it was…a different kind of agent altogether, almost. Not that Ariel could confirm this himself, what with the break-in just afterwards then being in the equivalent of a coma himself after the ship crashed.

Then he wound up separated from his body and under the cyber knife of the Director.

< You know, your life is probably more messed up than his, and Epsilon tried to die within Agent Washington’s head > Gamma put it simply.

_< That’s what Epsilon tried to do?! > _Ariel should have stopped the Director, no matter what. _Before_ it got that bad. He knew.

He had a feeling the fragments were getting worse as time went by. That _Alpha_ was getting worse.

He did not like the sound of the last (and most likely most volatile) fragment breaking down even further, never mind in someone else’s head. Especially with the evidence no doubt glaring in suspicion from a body of paranoid and rattled nerves just a few feet away.

_< I get the feeling we should probably keep your presence quiet. So, no popping out into the open or in this guy’s line of sight, okay? And no using the enhancement, either >_

Ariel may not have designed them himself, but he saw the blueprints to the Freelancer’s equipment and had a photographic memory. It took most of 14 months, but he had a viable attachment to his armor for using the time distortion unit’s original programming.

< I know. I’m not that dumb >

_< Well_… >

He got the impression of a door closing in his face before Gamma retreated further into his neural implant/mind.

The guy dished out jokes – bad ones – all the time, but he couldn’t take them as well.

Ariel tuned back into the conversation when he heard another AI’s call name.

“Omega, did he just say Omega?” Church practically shouted.

“Yeah. And he said some other words, too.”

Ariel frowned. “I suppose we know why he’s asking for our help, Church.”

The digital equivalent of a middle finger was sent.

< For someone who adamantly denies he’s an AI, he certainly gotten at being an AI. Not as good as me, but he’s making _some_ progress > Gamma remarked snidely.

_< Until we have more solid proof, the guy isn’t going to just admit the person he has been all this time is some sort of fake construct designed partly by his own damaged processes, what little memory Epsilon left him, the Director’s own handiwork, and the memory traces of Private Jimmy > _Ariel reminded the AI_. _On a less depressing note, Ariel added_, < And I thought you were giving me the silent treatment? You couldn’t even last five minutes >_

And the silence came back.

Maybe Gamma would go for double or nothing this time.

“Recovery One, out. Okay, let’s go.”

Church very much didn’t want to follow the Freelancer to who knows what disaster he awaited them – or rather, what he brought to them, Ariel thought as he picked apart the irregularities detected by his detection sensors scattered throughout the base – but any mention of Texas would win over the AI turned human soldier facsimile.

Although, if Washington wanted to survived being with the Blues for any period of time, he really needed to learn how to chill.

At least some things didn’t change, and the agent’s temperament and stringency – or as Church/Alpha called it, the stick up his ass - was as apparent as ever.

Although…

_< He’s up to something, isn’t he? >_

< Of course he is. Agent Washington became a very different person after what happened with Epsilon. Harsher, more detached, calculating. After, of course, recovering from his break from reality. Then again, did he really? >

The former doctor had theorized Epsilon must have contained the bulk of the AI’s memories when he scanned Alpha in the aftermath of the latest fragmentation, and he spent too many sleepless nights in the med bay hoping to God Washington would come out of the coma fine.

It was way too optimistic, yes, he realized that. But that was the thing about hope, even false hope.

And now knowing Washington kept his temper minus his patience, awkwardness, and the bright bits of his personality plus these new twists to his personality…

Ariel had to accept the agent might not have the best of intentions.

Before everything fell apart, Wash was his friend; Agent Washington, i.e. Recovery One? A virtual stranger and undeniable unknown and _danger_ to himself and most of all, his new friends and teammates.

< Obviously > Gamma agreed.

[Church, Agent Washington have ulterior motives. Do not let him know about your AI abilities]

[Or the fact you’re the Alpha] Gamma added.

[No duh, Ari. And what did I tell you? I am not some sort of father-figure for all these freaking AIs!]

[Denial is more than a river in Egypt, _Alpha_] Gamma disagreed, the smart AI easily detecting the trace data of a smirk accompanying the monotone comment.

As they shared headspace, Ariel was unfortunately subjected to the Church’s retort of a virtual finger plastering across his HUD screen as well as the physical one the soldier threw behind him out of sight of the ever-disapproving Agent Washington.

[How childish, brother] Gamma drawled, unmoved and unaffected.

[You’re both idiots] sent Ariel, accompanying the message with a data stream serving as a virtual version of a head smack to the two AIs.

He also warned them he would send them both into virtual timeout if they attempted another prank war (the things bored AI did in their spare time. At least it gave Church plenty of motivation to pick up AI tricks from his literal embodiment of duplicity).

Thankfully, they behaved themselves as Ariel, Church, and Caboose obediently (if not very quietly) followed after Agent Washington’s brisk pace.

* * *

Washington’s plan to see the ship officially did not pan out from what Ariel could see from him arguing with the guard. Eventually, the Freelancer returned to where the three Blues stood.

“We have a problem.”

“I hope it isn’t a math problem.”

Washington ignored that. “They have the crash site locked down, no one in or out.”

Church sounded pretty annoyed as he snarked, “And we couldn’t have found that earlier? Weren’t you just talking with Command or something, smart guy? So, we walked all the way out here…for nothing.”

The Freelancer didn’t seem too annoyed as he gestured to the building next to him. “They said we can use this base here.”

Church was not too impressed, but Ariel told him to leave off. There was a time and place for snark, and there was overdoing it.

Plus, there was the way the agent said it sending alarm bells ringing in his head.

“Okay, the three of you just stay here. I’ll draw off the guards. When I give the signal, jump into the grav-lift.”

“What-? Grav-lift? How do we use it?!”

“It’s easy,” Washington (not really) assured them. “Just step into it. It’ll do the rest. Meet me at the ship.”

Church breathed heavily, loud enough for it to reverberate through the helmet filters. “Fine. What’s the…signal.”

He turned back to find the Freelancer vanished.

“He’s gone,” Caboose helpfully pointed out.

“Yeah, I can see that. Goddamnit, I hate it when they do that! Ariel, what’s a grav-lift and how do we use it? And why do I have a feeling I won’t like what I’m about to hear?”

Ariel tapped a finger against his lowered weapon. “Well, to answer your last question, it’s probably because you subconsciously picked up on how Agent Washington probably wants to pay you back for your very flattering commentary. The grav-lift is originally a form of Covenant tech, a traction beam used to lift soldiers inside a starship against gravity without the need of a traditional ramp. But the ones used by Project Freelancer are modified in the reverse. Instead of pulling someone up from above, they push people out from below. You can think of it like a catapult powered by energy.”

He stepped back a bit when he heard Church grinding down on his steel-alloyed teeth (another modification he made was to make Church’s body more human-like, a project he started a bit before they left Blood Gulch, and good thing since even the guys they met en route to Outpost 48A would not be able to ignore or miss how Church’s body was definitely not human).

“He wants us to blindly use that. Basically an alien version of a slingshot. Where it will no doubt fling us some large distance through the air with only our lousy versions of MJOLNIR to keep us from going splat. Did I get everything?”

“Well, if you stick the landing, it probably won’t hurt much at all considering the suit’s electrostatic gel system is probably the only thing ‘Command’ didn’t skimp on when mass-producing armor for sims,” Ariel remarked.

The barrel of Church’s weapon flicked into his view.

“Let me guess, me first, right?”

“Well, last I checked, you were the guy with the fancy super regeneration powers.”

“And you’re a robot, and I made your armor a ton better than Caboose’s, but we’ll just going to ignore that, shall we?” Ariel huffed, glaring at Church without anger.

In the fourteen months and the release of most of his memories, Ariel had changed significantly. He remained more of a go with the flow and intellectual sort of guy, but he was more willing to speak up for himself outside of medical or personal safety matters, to press his point further and not back down.

He probably will never be the same passive-aggressive Dr. Leon nor the uncertain and nervous soldier who arrived at Blood Gulch, but he didn’t mind that too much. As Ariel, he was going to make his own choices about how his life was going to go and what people could do to the people he cared about or were under his care and damn the consequences.

_Even if they are people from my own past_, the Blue soldier grimly acknowledged as he discreetly tracked the Freelancer. One of the upgrades he made to his and Church’s armor was multiple motion map configurations and features, including discreet flagging of certain individuals, be they allies or enemies. Once locked, the system would keep track of the flagged point on even the general area setting, the widest (and least accurate) of the maps meant for analyzing the movements of large or scattered groups.

They all went to the roof of the abandoned Red Base.

“What do you think he’ll do for a distraction?” Caboose asked.

“Who the hell knows? Maybe he’ll make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do,” Church answered.

Ariel huffed quietly. “Knowing the guy like I do, trust me, he’ll do something a bit more-”

An explosion tore and flung pieces from the Blue Base across from them.

“-dramatic and noisy.”

“Or he can do like Ariel said, something really loud and obvious,” Church amended, staring blankly at the chaos the agent was wreaking.

“I think he’s better at distractions than you,” was Caboose’s comment.

“Shut up, already. And aren’t these guys on his side?”

He turned to Ariel who shook his head back, not looking away from the mayhem sending the Recovery soldiers scrambling. “Wash always could hold a grudge. Project Freelancer did none of its agents favors, not long-term. The guy’s probably resentful for the damage they did to his psyche.”

“Agent Washington is psychic?!”

Church rolled his eyes beneath his visor, completely unsympathetic.

“Yeah, well, sounds like he might be _psychotic_, maybe. Fan-fucking-tastic. And you know, I don’t actually care about how messed up these Freelancers are, so let’s just go. You first.”

“Yes, yes,” Ariel dryly stated but complied, waving off the psychotic comment as something to be expected from the ornery AI.

Him testing out the grav-lift was logically the best option since he knew what he was doing. Eying the grav-lift then the distance to where he can make out the crash site, he calculated the best direction and speed to enter the lift.

“Whatever you guys do, don’t panic, flail, or land on your head. Tuck and roll in the last twenty to ten feet . This thing is calibrated to throw projectiles, i.e. us, about eighty feet across. So, brace yourself on impact because that’s a lot of G-force you’re going to feel.”

“Eighty feet?!” was the last thing Ariel heard before he stepped forward into the grav-lift.

Luckily, Ariel had experience pulling off a lot of crazy aerial stunts before and during his time with Project Freelancer. He even worked with some ODSTs and did some in-planetary insertions.

Yeah, he was never the kind of medical doctor and scientist who stood around or puttered in his lab all day.

Just as he was about to land, Ariel tucked his limbs close and rolled with the descent, coming to a stop in a crouch once his momentum gave way to friction and gravity. A minute or two later, he heard yelling as Church less elegantly crashed and tumbled several times.

“Fuck lot of good your advice did!” A dozen more expletives came ripping through the air until they heard Washington over the comms telling the private to keep quiet.

* * *

Once Caboose made it, the four of them stalked forward in the shadows thrown by the cliffs around them.

There in its charred and misshapen glory was the Reds’ Pelican.

“Okay, here it is. Recognize it?”

“Yeah, this is it, Tex’s ship.”

Caboose suddenly perked up and gasped, “Sheila? Sheila! Are you alright?”

The Freelancer stared perplex at their seemingly insane teammate.

“Um…what is he doing?”

Church discreetly gestured for Ariel to get to talking.

Ariel huffed a little at him but did it anyway.

He explained, “During the final part of our little ‘O’ Malley problem’, we moved our tank’s training program to the ship since the tank itself was badly damaged, and we needed her intel on the whereabouts of Omega. Sheila is her call name.”

“Did you inform Command at any point you did this?” Washington questioned.

“Did you think we are the kind of soldiers to follow protocol?” Ariel answered back.

Church added, “Yeah, we’re not exactly big on paperwork. Or rules.”

“Like the one Caboose always breaks?”

“Ari…” Church growled, not exactly thrilled to remind Caboose of that little fact.

“Just a bit of levity, relax. Are we in trouble or something, though, Agent Washington?”

The agent sighed, probably contemplating what he did in a previous life to get stuck with a group like them. “Actually, that’s a good thing you didn’t, and I’m not going to report it, either. Chances are these soldiers didn’t know it was there, either, so they didn’t try to access it.”

He knocked aside a panel, revealing a computer screen.

“Greetings, and thank you activating the…wait, where am I?”

Ariel winced as the AI’s voice came out garbled and out of phase.

“Program. Instructions: run a full diagnostic and load the logs from your last flight,” the Freelancer ordered.

“Affirmative. Except-except-exceptions. This system has taken damage-damage. I am funct-functioning at minimum compacity-city-city…”

Ariel didn’t like how Washington was treating Sheila, dumb AI or not, and neither did Sheila’s most stalwart admirer.

“Do not talk to her like that!” Caboose butted in. “She is not a program!”

Wisely, the two other Blues backed away from Caboose.

The guy might be simple-minded, but Ariel vividly recalled how Caboose could lift up the Warthog on his own. Or when he took down the religious freaks after channeling his inner O’ Malley.

Or in those training sessions where the guy punched a dent through their steel-walled training room. On accident.

After breaking the punching bag Ariel had set up.

And all without armor even.

“I only want to replay the logs from the crash. So can you get it-”

They backed away even farther.

“I mean, her, to do that?”

More silence.

“Please?”

Caboose mulled over it for another stress-filled minute then turned back to the computer screen. “Sheila, if you would, please do that, that thing he just said? To me.”

It wasn’t anything Ariel didn’t suspect had happened. Texas was a soldier, through-and-through, she could keep a calm head even when crashing or when her passengers bailed on her.

(He wasn’t even going to question how they got off the Pelican during the slipstream jump gone wrong).

Church probably suspected it, too, but it didn’t make the reality any easier.

“Okay, so after that, the ship crashed here. From what Command got from a sole survivor, the Blues got here first and unloaded the bodies. Then they started to get infected.”

“Infected? What were they doing with the bodies?”

“Oh, shut it, Caboose,” Church snapped.

“No, really? What were they doing?”

“Not that kind of infected, Caboose,” Ariel sighed. “Chances were, Omega decided to hop around and cause mayhem.” _And Texas_, he mentally added.

“So, you’re familiar with the situation,” Washington stated. “Their men started acting erratically. They destroyed all their radios and their own comm tower.”

“Makes sense,” Ariel remarked. “We just shut our own off, and Blood Gulch doesn’t have a comm tower, but that works, too. The sane ones probably figured out the infection was spreading through the radio waves and tried to isolate it. But they were too late.”

Question is, why did Omega not stop them?

< I suspect my brother had other concerns >

< _What?! Other concerns_? > Gamma remained silent, and Ariel had to tune back into the conversation as he wasn’t quite 100% on his multi-thinking or tasking abilities.

“Yes, during training we discovered he was the one to inherit that trait, the ‘jumping’ gene. He did it a lot back then, but he always came back to one particular agent.”

“Texas,” Church practically swore.

“Yes. He always had an obsession with her, wouldn’t leave her alone even after reassignment.”

Ariel took advantage of the trip down memory lane to kneel down by the ship’s computer panel, TACPAD at the ready to hook into the ship’s system.

Like he planned, his armor’s in-built computer was as handy as his old holopad and then some. He figured when the Freelancer mentioned they were going to scope out the crash site, they might find Sheila still sort of intact.

“So, where’s your AI?” Church questioned, probably trying to steer the conversation away from Texas.

“I don’t have one… anymore.”

The creation of a single AI fragment was devastating. He couldn’t begin to really understand what Washington went through personally, physically, emotionally, or mentally.

“Look, it’s complicated, but that’s the reason why I was chosen for this job.”

< Because they can trust him not to run off with AIs > Gamma added. < Agent Washington has refused ever carrying an AI inside his head ever since the incident from what I heard prior to leaving the project >

_< Can you blame him? He doesn’t want anyone else to break his mind wide open like Epsilon did >_

“I knew I heard your name before,” Church exclaimed. “You’re the guy who went nuts!”

“I didn’t do anything. My AI…lost control of itself.”

< How convincing. His lie is very opaque >

_< Says the liar who kept trying to pull the time travel card on us back at Zanzibar >_

< Alpha fell for it >

< _Church came to Blood Gulch with barely any memories and a backstory held together by Scotch tape. And a bare threaded one when he doesn’t really remember past his ‘falling incident’ >_

“Right, it just happened to do all that while inside your head.”

[Church, you know what happened!]

[Ttch, he still went loco, didn’t he? Spasms, hallucinations, yelling, until you sedated him. Does that sound sane to you?]

[…it wasn’t his fault]

“Yes,” was the agent’s clipped response.

Caboose chimed in, “We have a lot in common, Agent Washington.”

“No, we don’t.” A pause. “And don’t ever say that again.”

“Hey, where’s Texas’s body?” Church interrupted before things could get weird.

“Well, according to the survivor, it should be in Blue Base.”

Church was not satisfied by that answer.

“I want to see it. Take me to it.”

“What? I don’t think so. That their m-”

A beeping interrupted the Freelancer mid-word.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Caboose asked, not at all paying attention to the agent or their de facto leader.

And done. “There. I transferred Sheila’s programming to a data storage device I have attached to my suit.”

It was the oblong cylindrical object he had attached just below his signature backpack because his team being what it was…injuries were a given. Hence the bulkiness of the casing itself. He detached the data storage device and handed the object to Caboose.

“Saw what I did earlier? Keep it hooked to your back mag-strip for now. I’ll try and upload Sheila to a new body once we finished our latest adventure. Try not to let her get damaged until then,” Ariel instructed the blue soldier as he handed the cylinder to Caboose.

The soldier handled it like it was a delicate porcelain object, actually taking care when he hooked it onto his suit.

Then a pair of arms grabbed the technician into a suffocating hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are now my all-time favorite person after Church!”

“Okay, great, buddy. But I kind of need to breathe, and you’re making my ribs creak!” Ariel gasped.

A minute more and Caboose finally set him down.

They met back up with Church and Washington just in time to hear:

:: It looks bad, Wash, real bad. She’s in big trouble ::

Washington replied rather darkly, “Yes. Yes she is.”

Ariel turned to Church. “Is it my imagination, or did his tone kind of sounded…?”

“Like he wanted someone dead?”

What the hell did they get themselves involved this time?


	10. Stinging Nettle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urtica - stinging/common nettle, nettle leaf, stinger  
Meanings: protection, life and death, rudeness, pain

“Speaking”

~exaggerated, amplified, modulated, playful~

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

< direct mental communication via neural implant: AI and host > 

_“**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

Just when South Dakota thought this might be it, an explosion distracted the Meta. A familiar voice called out, “Don’t let it near her!”

Washington.

Two Mongoose ATVs crashed onto the scene, one slammed into the Meta while the other clumsily smacked into a tree, sending its two passengers jumping off.

“And don’t let her get away!”

_How sweet of you, Wash_, South Dakota thought scathingly as she ran for cover.

“Her? Is she another Freelancer?”

“Yes!” Washington screamed at what South Dakota could swear were simulation troopers. “Just make sure she doesn’t leave!”

_Hell no am I sticking around!_

She broke into a run.

When he saw where Washington planned to ‘park’ their newly acquired (i.e., stolen) vehicle, Ariel bailed.

Then stared at the white soldier with a full-face visor. This was…_Maine_?

The silent soldier, probably one of Freelancer’s best in frontal assault combat? Basically a tank like Caboose, but older and more disciplined?

And if Ariel reached deeper into his ‘new’ memories, someone he once considered a friend back on the MoI, not just someone under his care.

And here he was their enemy, this Meta Church mentioned when Ariel asked about what Washington had discussed while he was downloading Sheila.

_< Gamma, would you care to explain? >_

< Well, you never did ask why I left Reggie. You have to admit; he did survive the encounter when the Meta thought he no longer had his enhancement nor myself. Unlike with the others >

_< Unlike with- Never mind. You’re going to explain more once we drive Agent Maine off >_

First thing, doing what Washington wanted.

Which Church had already taken care of as he shouted, “Hey, Caboose!”

“Yeah?”

“You see that purple one? She’s on our new friend. You should really try and ‘help’ her.”

He could see where Church was going with this.

Caboose stood up, aimed his gun not at the Meta but Agent South Dakota, and fired several times.

Then the private immediately ducked back down when he saw their ‘teammate’ fall, crippled.

“Umm, she got in the way when I was trying to help her.”

“Was that really necessary?”

“Hey, if it gets Agent Hardass off our backs, yeah.”

The Meta then disappeared.

_< Stealth? Gamma, is this why you mentioned your armor enhancement?! >_ Considering the situation, Ariel lapsed into a hyper-time state any smart AI could perceive with their much faster mental processes.

< Yes. The Meta collects both AIs and their assigned enhancements to grow in power >

What. The. Hell?! Their armor wasn’t designed to shoulder all the different enhancements at once. Ariel should know. The sheer amount of power necessary to power all of them would be devastating. Not to mention the space needed to house them and the multiple AIs. There was a reason the Director was vaguely questioning when Carolina asked for both new AIs.

At least he made a casual effort to show he cared a damn about her health at the time.

Fragments or not, the AIs were still massive amounts of data in their own right. And from the readings Ariel picked up on…

If the Meta kept collecting at this rate, his suit would fail. Heck, the strain on his neural implant and body should already be cutting years off his lifespan. And don’t get him started on the short or long term mental degradation.

For both the human and the AIs.

< Hmm, I never considered that >

_< That’s why all the Freelancers given an enhancement had to undergo extensive evaluations and additional physical exams. I needed to build each armor with the consideration of how the enhancement would interact with their physicality and mentality and preempt how the agents would implement them out in the field. Especially after what happened with the…beta test agents >_

Ariel subconsciously grimaced at the thought of those disasters. Oxygen deprivation from a malfunctioning domed shield, several bodily injuries from the speed and strength boost enhancements, the agent they lost in the time-space continuum…

The Director was brilliant, but this was a new realm in armor modifications they have undertaken. Sure, the current set of MJOLNIR at the time did have permutations and extra stuff already made available, but none quite as powerful, multi-faceted, and game-changing as what Project Freelancer had aimed to conceive.

It was the project’s very reason for its existence, a complement and foil to the SPARTAN programs. They were to design better and more powerful armor but along the lines of something a normal human would use in combat and reap similar results as the augmented humans.

Technology and high-end cybernetics over bioengineering and genetic modification.

But it was a very dangerous balancing act necessitating a particular specialist to lead the medical team. They needed someone versed in evaluating the mind because the project was experimenting with more invasive form of AI implantations, and they needed an expert with engineering and cybernetics background to give precise guidance on improvements when they ran the live trials for the enhancements.

Of all the people on the MoI, Ariel – the Specialist – had probably the most extensive set of duties in the project, and it wasn’t something the Director wanted advertised, hence part of the reason why he insisted Ariel use a voice modifier. It had a subtle effect of discouraging people from interacting with the CMO and had people guessing on his real identity.

Not that he was completely isolated from social interactions…just never as himself _or_ his role as CMO.

And he did it because he thought the man ultimately meant well.

< But you know what they say about well-meaning intentions… >

_< I do_ > Ariel acceded. < _As I was saying, Wyoming had his pair of enhancements because the time distortion unit couldn’t be used often, so he needed another edge, a front or main weapon > _

< The active camouflage >

_< Yes. It was actually the first suggestion for his enhancement. The time-distortion unit was something the Director offered. But I told him beforehand it might cause permanent long-term damage before going ahead with the final design for his armor specs >_

< Reggie was always one not to refuse every advantage he could get >

_< No kidding >_

A lie’s purpose was ultimately to buy time until the tricked found out the truth. Make an advantage rather than find one.

Wait… Gamma and Wash just said the Meta takes any equipment it can from the Freelancers? And it obviously assaulted that outpost back there to take Texas’s and probably Omega…

Didn’t she take one of the-

Ariel restored his perceptions back to human-level in time to hear:

“Ah shit, Wyoming,” Church snarled next to him. “Cover me!”

Ariel followed closely behind, as the cobalt soldier burst from their shelter and charged.

“What?! Wyoming? Caboose, cover him. Grab those spike grenades and throw!”

“What?!” Church and Ariel both yelled. Church continued to scream, “No! Don’t let him help me!”

Ariel kept the Meta distracted with a barrage of shots, forcing him to dodge and consequently ease up on the fire following Church’s mad dash toward the discarded rocket launcher.

Too late. Caboose threw his grenade…into the wall directly in front of him and the agent.

The agent deadpanned, “That was the worst throw. Ever. Of all time.”

The two came jumping over the crumbled wall, and explosion following just shortly afterward.

At the same time, Church recovered from his split-second double-take to lift up his newly acquired rocket launcher and lined it up with the Meta, Ariel temporarily extending a portion of himself to guide the AI’s hands, a workaround Church’s psychological and programmed inability to shoot certain people offhandedly.

Then everything slowed down to a near standstill.

_< Gamma! >_

< On it >

Lucky for their teammates, AIs processed things in the nanoseconds between registering the sudden time distortion field billowing out and warping space slightly and the moment the effect would reach them.

Their own time distortion unit activated.

Everyone but the Meta stopped moving.

The rocket froze only another second from the Meta’s face. Eying the instrument of his near-death, the power mad Freelancer backed up and away from it.

Then walked over to where Caboose and Agent Washington remained frozen in the air.

The Meta switched his Brute Shot for his Magnum.

Two things happened: the Meta’s suit sparked, releasing the rocket from the hold of the time freeze.

And Ariel was on the man himself, attempting a leg sweep on the distracted Meta. The man barely avoided it as he sprang away, rolling a grenade across the ground and just below the two frozen jumpers.

Ariel growled, but he knew his own priorities. He quickly jumped for the explosive, barely getting it clear of the two before it detonated and thrashed Ariel’s luckily upgraded and formerly fully charged energy shield. It still sent him flying across the ground until he collided with a half-collapsed wall.

_< That’ll leave a nice bruise >_

< For all of a few minutes with your augmented healing >

_< It would hurt worse than a bitch for a while, otherwise, yes >_

“What? Where did he got, what happened? And what the hell was that explosion?”

“The grenade the Meta threw between the two of you when he paused local time. Luckily, I handled it,” Ariel explained, wincing as he got back to his feet.

Agent Washington narrowed his eyes. “You could still move, couldn’t you? Why didn’t you get the Meta when you had the chance?”

“Grenade. Sitting. _Between_. The two of you. I would rather risk the mission than risk my comrades’ lives, agent. As it stands, my suit’s shielding was completely taken down at point-blank. Yours would not have done as well at half that distance.”

Agent Washington remained silent for a minute longer, but Ariel could practically feel the guy’s temper unravel from here.

Luckily, Church came up to them and interrupted the no doubt angry rant the agent was going to give him, grumbling, “He used Wyoming fucking time thing, probably scavenged from the fucking ship. Why the hell didn’t you warn us earlier it could use other people’s equipment?!”

“Warn you? Why didn’t you tell me Wyoming was on the ship in the first place?” the agent yelled back at his new target of his frustration.

“He wasn’t! Tex just-”

Their argument was interrupted by the forgotten Freelancer lying on the ground and moaning in pain.

“Delta, respond. Are you still here?”

“Affirmative. However, Agent South Dakota is seriously wounded. May I suggest moving me to a new host?”

“Acknowledged. I don’t trust her anyways. One of you three take him.”

Considering Ariel and Church couldn’t risk it, the responsibility fell to Caboose. Nevertheless, Ariel walked with him to ensure things went smoothly.

A familiar green AI appeared.

“Delta, what happened?”

“I agree with the simulation trooper. The Meta has most likely in this case acquired the temporal distortion unit and an AI capable of running it. In this case, Gamma.”

Church looked over somewhat subtlety in Ariel’s direction.

[Delta probably doesn’t know about the finer details of the temporal distortion unit. For one, Wyoming and York rarely worked together after the whole disastrous training exercise. Any AI can use the physical component to pause time, albeit very briefly, but only Gamma alone can use the unit to its full ability since he has the actual program embedded into his matrices]

[So…don’t expect the guy to pull a fucking loop on us? Wait, does that mean you can?] Church realized.

[Actually, I disabled the feature since I would rather Gamma not be tempted to overuse it. He can still pause time like the Meta demonstrated, but he also can speed it up or use it on a very localized area instead of the default range]

[I am hurt you still distrust me after all this time, Doctor]

[No you aren’t]

“Okay, so the Meta can pause time now. Why didn’t it take the chance to kill us, then, while we were vulnerable? I highly doubt one simulation trooper would be enough to dissuade it,” Agent Washington remarked.

Church bristled at the guy’s dismissive tone. Hah, if that guy only knew what kind of a badass Ari there can be under his ‘innocent me’ act.

“I do not have enough data to formulate a passable hypothesis. Perhaps it was injured during the ensuing combat or its past exploits? We should be simply happy it is gone,” the AI proposed.

Agent Washington, Church, and Caboose went with the AI’s suggestion. Ariel did not.

“It probably didn’t want to take the chance.”

Agent Washington and Delta turned to the indigo soldier.

“What do you mean by that?” the logic fragment questioned.

“The Meta, just before it tried to shoot Washington there and I attacked him, kind of…sparked? Like his suit malfunctioned. The distortion field started to come undone from the point of origin outward. It probably threw the grenade since I was being a nuisance and time was beginning to reestablish from where we were standing,” Ariel outlined, tapping a gloved hand thoughtfully.

“The implication of holding multiple augmentation units on top of their accompanying AIs…I’m not saying I am expert on your equipment, but that sounds like it would eat up a lot of power fast. More than likely, the temporal distortion unit used too much energy at once and the strain caused it to disengage prematurely.”

Delta’ green avatar tilted his head, intrigued by the simulation trooper’s well thought out hypothesis.

“The simulation trooper’s reason is sound.”

“So, the Meta is either injured, can’t use his enhancements at the moment, or a mix of both? Sounds like an opportunity to me. We might actually have a chance of beating it then.”

“Whatever, I just know we probably shouldn’t stick around here,” Church butted in.

“Agreed. Let’s go before the Meta recovers fully.”

The orchid Freelancer on the ground stumbled onto her feet, barely supported by the nearby wall.

“I-I can’t walk on my own,” she groaned.

Washington wasn’t impressed, and Ariel balked at the agent’s unsympathetic tone: “Then I guess you should try crawling.”

Delta’s report didn’t exactly help matters as the AI revealed the extent of the other agent’s desperation to survive. Ariel thought the parallel of South Dakota attempting to leave Delta behind for the Meta and what happened to Washington when she left the man behind was a bit much. The agent didn’t need any more encouragement to get angry from what Ariel could see.

Delta’s final conclusion: “It is highly probably she will turn on us just as she did in previous encounters and partners. In her current physical state, she will only hinder our own progress against the Meta. Whom she is unlikely to aid us against.”

“What are you suggesting?”

< What do you think, agent? >

_< You don’t seriously think- >_

< It is Delta. My brother is logic just as I am deceit. Reason does not abide by morals or emotion, just results >

“I suggest we do not let her hinder our progress, agent.”

“I see. Well, fine by me.” Agent Washington aimed his Magnum (which Ariel noticed him unholstering and reloading casually after South admitted she was in no shape to travel with them).

“Come on, Wash. What are you going to do shoot-?”

*Crack!*

A translucent golden wall situated itself between Agent Washington, Agent South Dakota…and Ariel.

“Th-that’s the Domed Energy Shield!” Washington stated dumbfounded. His incredulity quickly transformed to anger as he realized who had used the enhancement.

South could barely move and wouldn’t dare use the tech without an AI to keep her brain from frying. So, that left…

“It is.”

Agent Washington could not believe this! The dark blue simulation trooper somehow slipped South’s equipment into his own armor systems. He must have done it under the pretense of walking Caboose over to the agent and helping the man with the transfer of the Delta AI.

But there was something noticeably off about the shield. For one, it wasn’t really a dome. Two, it was still up.

Even North couldn’t keep the shield up by himself for more than 3.4 seconds without it almost killing him. How as the damn _simulation_ trooper doing it?!

“Stand down, private!” Washington ordered, completely done with the Blues. He was so closed to getting his vengeance on this treacherous bitch. Didn’t Ariel understand they couldn’t trust her? That she would sooner put a bullet in his back than repay him for saving her?

“Who are you talking to? Caboose and Church?”

The click of two weapons being cocked echoed.

Said soldiers had drawn their own weapons. Not even Church could miss at point-blank range.

(Well, that was what he thought at the time…)

“Back off the skanky bitch and the corporal, _agent,_” Church warned, sniper rifle steadily held toward the Freelancer’s head. Caboose wasn’t pointing at anything vital, and but having multiple weapons aimed in his direction didn’t exactly give Washington a warm and fuzzy feeling.

“You don’t understand, she’ll shoot you in the back like she did to me!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time our own teammates shot on our own,” Ariel noted blandly. “Accidents, but eh… It’s a Blue Team thing. Besides, I’m not about to let you execute someone who can’t even defend themselves. She may be a rat, but she’s a person, too. One Project Freelancer has done nearly as much damage to her psyche as yourself, don’t you think?”

“And how would you know?” South spat at her savior.

“See how grateful she is? Drop the shield.”

“No. And I learned a thing or two from Texas in her stay at our outpost. Agent Wyoming also is quite the talker,” Ariel lied.

Well, not entirely. Mostly concerning the context of his words versus his implication. Gamma would be so proud.

< Eh, not bad. But can you convince our dearest paranoid Washington without giving away your own identity? >

_< Watch me >_

“Like what? Texas hardly socialized with anyone, and Wyoming…well, he might have seen some things, but nothing big.” South narrowed her eyes up at the sim trooper.

“Things like North.” Ariel pretended not to see the agent flinch at the name. “You guys were close, even for twins, right? But things went downhill quickly after he got Theta. You guys were constantly endangering your lives, being pit against each other in some obscure contest with no discernible rules or reason to the scoring other than your leader’s whims.”

“Shut up,” the agent growled. But she was helpless with her leg injury to do anything.

Ariel continued, “I get the impression you’re a survivor, South. It’s not a bad trait, but with all the pressure, jealousy, the utter fear you would fail to meet people’s expectations, to never measure up to your golden boy brother…it broke whatever trust and love you had for him, didn’t it?”

“And what the hell would you know?!”

Ariel tapped a gauntlet against the still glowing shield. “Experience. The person I should be able to trust betrayed me in just about every way. They gave me up for dead. I survived, but I’ll never forget that lesson. Anyone can betray you.”

Washington eyed the sim as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And yet you’re protecting South – who has a record of betraying people and leaving them for dead.”

“I didn’t finish,” Ariel lightly scolded. “Anyone can betray you…but not always for the same reasons you think they did. Or the reason they stand by. I’m sure the person who betrayed me would say they did it because they saw an opportunity. I thought they did it because they simply didn’t care. Honestly? They probably cared too much is probably the truest answer.”

“That’s a nice story, but I’m not convinced.”

“I’m just saying I can understand a little about the mindset Agent South has. Command screwed both of you over, mentally and emotionally. Do you really think killing South will make you feel better?”

“Yes.”

Ariel pulled short. Agent Washington had answered curtly, without even a moment’s hesitation.

_< …he really believes that, doesn’t he? >_

< You would know him better than I, Doctor >

What did Gamma mean by that, exactly?

“Nevertheless, you want her? You’ll have to fight both of us first.”

“Both? There are three of you.”

“Technically five if we can count on Delta, but I doubt the guy who served South up for punishment will do said agent any favors.”

Agent Washington got a niggling feeling in the back of his mind. “It still doesn’t add up! Unless…”

A light blue hologram of Gamma appeared at the indigo soldier’s shoulder.

The only way the agent could think of how the simulation trooper was maintaining the shield for this long would be if he had an AI of his own to run it.

“Gamma.” One word, and the man made it sound like a curse being pulled through clenched teeth with an accompaniment of nails against glass with the subvocal growl he could make out.

_Wow, he’s mad._

“What are you doing with that AI? If he’s telling you these things, I’ll inform you, soldier, he’s-”

“The embodiment of deception. Yes, we Blues at Blood Gulch Outpost have a history with the Gamma AI if him being in my head hadn’t made it abundantly clear. He’s a compulsive liar, a tall tale teller, and an all-around annoyance.”

“Then why would you keep him?”

Ariel shrugged. “Because. I’m the best person to keep him in line. It’s just an additional perk he can help me manage the Domed Energy Shield.” _By sparing me the processing power to run it myself, so I can run the computations for the new shaping program I added on the fly._

“And what better person to keep South in line than someone with a master of deceptions in his head? Gamma and I have an understanding, agent, you’ll just have to trust me on that.”

Blue and green avatars ‘eyed’ each other.

“Gamma.”

“Delta.”

The two quietly conversed in the manner of AIs. Finally, Delta withdrew from his few seconds of discussion.

“Agent Washington, we can trust Corporal Ariel. My brother seems strangely subdued after all this time, perhaps a byproduct of being in the care of someone so inherently opposed to his own nature.”

“Are you certain, Delta?”

The green AI nodded.

The Freelancer looked like he just swallowed a lemon with how bitter his next words came out. “Fine. Corporal Ariel, I will allow you to take custody of Agent South Dakota for now, but anything she does is on your head. Same goes for Gamma.”

“Understood, agent. I will perform first aid on Agent South, but she’ll need something more if we are to take her with us. I understand Agent York had the healing unit, and his AI was Delta here.”

“I have it,” Agent Washington reluctantly admitted.

“Then hurry up and give it over,” Church grunted. “She needs her legs, and I doubt she can hurt us with something meant to heal, it’s in its given name.”

Very reluctantly, the agent transferred his enhancement to the wounded operative. Ariel worked swiftly, removing the bullet with a pair of tweezers, applying his homemade remedies (vastly improved with his renewed knowledge on chemistry and old herb lore) and binding her leg lightly with gauze.

“Judging by how quickly the unit has closed up your bullet wound, you should be okay after a few hours. Exhausted, energy has to come somewhere, but you’re mobile for now.”

“Great, now let’s go already.”

* * *

The group went to survey their bikes . Or rather the remains of them.

“Talk about overkill,” Church remarked. Their Mongoose (Geese?) looked like they lost the war, metal twisted and burnt and in pieces around the area. “What the hell did it do?”

“Bombed the shit out of them,” South observed as she limped along the wreckage. “Ah hell, I guess we’ll have to walk…where are we going again?”

“We need to figure out where the Meta is heading for repairs,” Washington pointed out. “We haven’t narrowed down a place yet. By the way, I told Command you’re dead. You’re welcome.”

“Wow, thanks, Wash.”

“Who knows? If we’re lucky, that may really become true.”

“Geez, what every dead girl wants to hear from her old teammate.”

Ariel asked quickly before the conversation could escalate, “What did you tell them? A case of a fatal injury in the altercation with the Meta or…?”

“Friendly fire. I told them Caboose did it. Command even has a shortcut just for his team kills.”

“It’s ctrl+FU,” Caboose stated cheerfully.

South looked at the strange Blue with an uncertain look.

Ariel kindly advised her, “Whatever you do, never ask Caboose directly for help, especially as his form of ‘help’ gave you a bad leg already.”

“Noted,” South acknowledged with a newfound sense of unease with her new ‘team’.”

“I would have told them Church did it, but I wanted it to be believable. And I doubt they’ll believe the corporal did it considering he _can_ shoot.”

“I don’t miss, so yeah, kind of the opposite problem there,” Ariel agreed mildly. “Anyways about the Meta…what kind of equipment does it already have exactly? We know it has Wyoming’s time distortion unit and Texas’s active camouflage and super strength units…”

“Yeah, speaking of which, you kind of neglected to tell me Wyoming was on the ship.”

Church snorted, “Like I was saying earlier, he wasn’t.”

“Tex just brought along his head. Well, one of them,” Caboose helpfully explained.

“His head?!”

“His HELMET! Jesus, we don’t all have hard-ons for murder like you, _Agent_,” Church answered, putting a fatal dose of venom on the word ‘agent’.

Church fucking had it with this jackass. Why the hell were they helping him, anyways? Sure, Ariel seemed to know the guy, but it was pretty clear the two didn’t get along personality-wise.

“On top of those two, the Meta likely has enhanced motion tracking, the overshield, adaptive camouflage, and probably more. And of course, the several AIs he collected for the past few years.”

“You know, the more I hear about AIs, the more they sound like they’re more trouble than they’re worth,” Church remarked caustically. “What makes them so special? I can understand the equipment, that’s actually pretty cool, but AIs? They’re like a constant voice talking into your skull and causing problems when they’re not rearranging someone’s mind.”

Delta deadpanned, “I shall not comment on that.”

[Rude. And you are an AI yourself] Aloud, Gamma stated, “What a ringing endorsement, Church.”

Agent Washington countered, “AI help us in battle depending on their function. We couldn’t run half of our equipment without them.”

Ariel added, “They do a whole lot more than that. Dumb and smart AIs are used everywhere in UNSC space. They manage calculations and data, coordinate and monitor working environments, relay information throughout businesses and organization, heck, almost every major UNSC ship uses a smart AI to help with the day-to-day running plus calculate all the hundreds of little variables for slipspace jumps. As you can imagine, their invaluable.”

“He’s right. A smart AI especially would make someone damn near unbeatable.”

“Smart? Like Delta?” Church asked.

_Ah, he’s probing, testing to see how much Agent Washington is willing to tell him._

“No. Delta is just the logical one in the family. Smart has an entirely different context for AIs than it does for people.”

“Hey now,” Caboose tittered, “let’s not go throwing around words like smart. Some people could get offended.”

Delta nodded his head toward the Freelancer. “Agent Washington is quite right. AIs like myself, Omega, and Gamma would be what you would call something more analogous to fragments.”

“Okay, I didn’t really need to know all this stuff,” Church interrupted. “Or care. I don’t need to call you guys anything.”

< Classic baiting maneuver >

_< It’s Church. He might have decided he actually didn’t want to hear this from Delta. Your older brother isn’t exactly the most subtle or empathetic >_

“I would not want to call anyone anal guts. Especially in public.”

“There is however, one smart AI in the Freelancer program. The Alpha-”

Washington cut the AI right there, ordering him to log off.

Gamma appeared at Ariel’s shoulder. “Sensitive, aren’t you, Agent?”

“I can command you to offline as well, Gamma. Ariel, take control of your AI.”

“Wow, sounds like someone has something to hide. Who’s the Alpha?” Ariel shot a subtle warning look at the no doubt smirking robot.

“None of your business, like I said to Delta, he isn’t real.” Washington sounded…tired. “And don’t bother asking the AIs about it. If you let them, they’ll just talk your ear about someone they never even met. Back in Project Freelancer, he was all some of them cared about. They were obsessed with the idea of the Alpha.”

“But who was he?”

“The original AI, or so rumors say,” South answered, much to a scowling Washington’s disapproval. “AI are expensive to create, smart ones especially. Not everyone just has a spare brain lying around to turn into a brand-spanking new AI.”

“Wait, AI are zombies?” Caboose gasped, ignored by everyone.

“That sounds pretty messed up,” Church admitted, probably not comfortable thinking about his own origins. Granted, Ariel explained the Director had cloned his own brain for the project’s sole smart AI, something done partly out of arrogance.

And highly illegal if ONI hasn’t done its best to cover it up.

Washington continued to give a rough sketch of how the project ‘copied’ the Alpha AI.

Copied was a tame and inaccurate word to what really happened: the artificial induction of dissociative disorder in order to splinter off pieces of the Alpha’s core programming to make new AI. Severe mental and emotional torture Ariel and many others would condemn as inhumane but not exactly illegal officially. No one has ever sought to so heavily abuse what amounted to the equivalent of a human mind before the Director’s own twisted obsession blinded him to the project’s original goals.

The agent continued, outline the infamous break-in attempt, but before he could finish, a recovery beacon went off.

Ariel frowned as listened to the conversation between the Freelancer and Command.

The beacon was sent by Agent Maine, i.e. the Meta.

“Of fucking course he is,” Church growled. “The guy trying to kill all the Freelancers is one of your Freelancer buddies. Of a-fucking course. Any important piece of information _you’re _withholding, Washington?”

The agent ignored him as he tried to get more information. However, there was some pointed interference. Shortly after, they lost the transmission, including the coordinate data, but Delta could confirm the Meta was experiencing power failures as Ariel surmised earlier.

“So, now what, Wash? We don’t have any leads on the Meta aside from how it needs a major power boost to work his equipment?” South pointed out with no little irritation.

The Blues exchanged a look

Church sighed and answered reluctantly, “A lot of power, right? We-we might have an idea of where it could find a place with a lot of power on hand.”

* * *

“And we’re back here.”

“Zanzibar, we meet again,” Church monologued as they could just barely make out the structure of the giant solar paneled windmills.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Ariel snorted. “Just because some of the worst things to happen or set in motion occurred when we came here the first time…”

“Exactly!” Church snarked back at him. “Your buddy Gamma tried to mess with our heads, that alien and Andy almost killed us, Texas disappeared, York apparently died not long after we left Zanzibar, Tucker got pregnant with his evil spawn-”

“You do remember he made me the ‘evil spawn’s’ godfather, right?”

“-and then the whole thing with Omega started back up again!”

“Hey, I have a question!”

“Private Caboose, we’ll be there in approximately ten minutes,” Delta reported.

“Well, I was wondering…how are we going to fight the Meta if it has all that awesome stuff Agent Washington told us earlier?”

Delta paused. “That’s an excellent question, Private Caboose. As it stands, we have three nonstandard pieces of equipment and two AIs…”

“Against the Meta’s veritable army in one suit, malfunctioning or not. Are we just going to go in there shooting Mr. Badass Freelancer?” Church pointed out.

“That would be ill-advised,” their literal voice of reason stated, “especially if the Meta retains some ancillary control of his enhancements, limited as they are at this point. Agent Wyoming’s time distortion unit will prove to be the most unpredictable factor, even without Gamma’s greater expertise or full function running it.”

Seeing how Church was turned back to Washington and prepped to get himself shot for his snark, Ariel brought the group’s attention back to the issue. “Anyways, the Meta obviously has a copy of the time distortion unit. It wouldn’t surprise me if the unit was prematurely triggered, interacting in such a way to cause Tex’s ship to displace forward in time in a rare time anomaly from the excess energy of the explosion and the interrupted slipspace jump.”

“Something tells me I’m missing a lot of the context behind this, but whatever,” Agent Washington dismissed. “Moving along, Zanzibar?”

Ariel brought up his files on the outpost on his HUD. “It should take time before the Meta can access the primary power generation and distribution center. I heard recently Zanzibar Outpost was re-designated as an active outpost a few months back. So, the Meta would have to fight against the soldiers posted there.”

South and Washington exchange glances.

“It’ll take him maybe ten minutes max to clear the place.”

Ariel rolled his eyes. True, but they didn’t need to be so quick to dismiss the sim troopers’ lives. “You know, he probably has an idea we’re coming. Probably has some sort of tracker on Agent Washington since I’m certain the agent was the one to lead him to Church and I’s former outpost in the first place. Why else would he be there?”

Unlikely for it to be the worst-case scenario (short of the Meta slaughtering the lot of them): the Meta discovered the Alpha’s current location. If he had, he would have gone straight for Church from what Ariel knew about Sigma’s unhealthy obsession with the Alpha. Gamma telling him how Sigma had degraded to the point he would forcefully recruit his fellow AI fragments only worsen Ariel’s fears for if the Meta were to ever find out the truth.

…And Ariel did not want to contemplate what would happen if the Meta went after him. Gamma aside, there was the fact his own mind was very AI-like. It was possible the fragments might be able to pick up on that if they got too close. He probably couldn’t be removed involuntarily from his own damn body, but the attempt might cause further damage to his already patched together mind.

< So quick to dismiss my own fate should the Meta come after us, Doctor? >

_< No. If the Meta tries something, I’m kicking you to the nearest offline data site. Can’t rip out what he can’t reach. I don’t like the idea of even more repairs, but you’re not something I can just rebuild, you know >_

< … >

The feed between their respective minds cut off.

Ariel sighed as Gamma hid himself away.

Zanzibar was once more a ghost of itself, Ariel darkly noted. Corpses, organic this time, littered the floors and corners here and there. The few spent bullet casings and explosion residue suggested profoundly how quickly and completely the Meta overwhelmed the ordinary soldiers of this place.

They didn’t stand a chance against even a hurt Meta.

Being Blues, they had to get smart with their ‘leader’, and Wash wasn’t having any of it.

“I’m going to advanced along that wall. South and Caboose, take Delta and head up along the other side. Church, Gamma, and Ariel, circle around the perimeter. If we’re smart about this, we can trap the Meta between our three groups.”

“Okay.”

Agent South was not okay with the plan. “And what am I supposed to do, exactly? You took my weapons.” Agent Washington’s glare shut the agent up, especially when she saw him lightly touch his Magnum.

“And we’re operating under radio _silence._ That means, whatever happens don’t turn on your radios. I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“But whatever you Blues do, don’t make a move until I give you the say-so.”

“Okay.”

“And no screwing around this time!”

Church yelled, “Okay! Whatever, are we just going to lie on the beach all day, or are we going to go in there and get that thing?!”

Agent Washington was not amused. “Listen, this is probably our one and best chance to defeat the Meta before he gets back to full power. I can’t take any chances of you guys botching this up like before.”

“Why do you think we’re going to be the ones to mess things up?” Ariel contended. Last time he checked, Ariel was the one saving the agent from a messy and painful death by explosion.

“Just follow my orders.”

Delta manifested his hologram over by the steel-colored soldier.

“Agent Washington, perhaps it would be best if I were removed from Private Caboose and directly assist you in bat-”

“No,” the agent quickly answered.

“But statistically-speaking, as a Freelancer, you would be better suited to synchronize with an AI-”

“I said no!”

Delta nodded his head in acknowledgement and dissipated.

Ariel held his tongue as Church took the initiative to interrogate Delta more on the Alpha.

He could understand the smart AI’s reasons. As much as he could trust Ariel, Church by his own nature would not just take his word, and Gamma never really helped matters along.

Church didn’t sound too impressed with the Freelancer program by the end of their chat.

Finally, Church arrived at one of the upper walkways overseeing a courtyard where the Meta stood. Across from them, he could make out South and Caboose and Agent Washington on the opposite walkway.

“So, all we need to do is wait for his sign-”

“Now!” The other Freelancer threw a grenade, forcing the Meta to dodge it and the hail of bullets.

“What the hell is with this guy and explosions?!” Church barked as he watched the agent leap into open combat with the Meta.

The Meta outmaneuvered Washington quickly enough, knocking him to the side with the Brute Shot.

“What the hell are you just standing there for?! Shoot him!” the semi-dazed agent called as he lunged back onto his feet.

“Fine!”

Church jumped down from their hiding spot, rolling a grenade. The Meta quickly stopped short and turned around, but not before the explosion sent him tumbling off his feet.

Washington and Church chased the Meta past the wind blades after Church landed a one-in-million shot.

“I still say it counts!”

“Not important, Church. Where did he go?”

Suddenly, a very annoying and familiar tune started up.

“What-”

Church didn’t wait for the agent to get a clue, diving to the side, Agent Washington following shortly after as a Warthog came barreling at them. It carried a too familiar set of three Reds.

Luckily, the Reds weren’t very smart as they crashed against a wind blade and into the ditch below it.

“Who the hell are these people?”

Church spat, “They’re the Reds from our canyon. But what the fuck are those a-holes doing here?!”

“Are they working for the Meta?”

“Those idiots? Doubt it. Too stupid for their own good, would probably just try shooting him themselves if someone so much as hinted the Meta was a Blue. They’re pretty harm-”

Just then, the Reds’ Warthog was lifted up by the solar paneled wind blade, machine gun pointed right at them.

“Oh shit!”

The two wisely scattered as bullets hammered them.

“What was that you were saying?” Agent Washington hissed at Church.

They took cover back within the base. Agent Washington then noticed something else.

“Church, where is Ariel? Wasn’t he with you?”

The Blue gave a nervous chuckle, shifting uneasily. “Well, about that…”

“I told you not to act without my orders!”

Church growled, shoving the agent away. “News flash, we don’t _have to_ listen to you, you cockbiting fucker! And for your information, Ariel and Gamma went to disable the generators, so we _don’t _have to keep worrying about a Meta 2.0 coming after us.”

“Wait, where did the Meta go? Caboose? Delta? South?”

The Blue took out his sniper and peered through the scope. He could make out a pair of prone bodies.

“Shit, they’re not moving!” And they couldn’t exactly move to check on them with the Reds pinning them here!

Church knew it, this was just turning into one big clusterfuck.

He should have just ignored Caboose and pretended no one was home. The outpost was big enough Ariel and him could just hide until the Freelancer gave up (Church knew deep in his Reimann Matrix Ariel wouldn’t exactly be convinced by any absurd lie, and Gamma would take it apart even if Church could get Ariel to go along for a minute).

Agent Washington was having his own doubts.

He should have known these sim soldiers would find a way to mess up his plan. And they were a man down (South could die for all he cared), and the Meta was still missing.

Agent Washington had enough of this.

“Private Church, we can’t just cower here forever. Caboose is hurt, he could be losing blood.”

“He’ll be fine, not the first time he lost a little blood.” Callous, but Church was pretty sure he saw Ariel tinkering with Caboose’s armor when Agent Hard Ass wasn’t looking. From experience, Church knew the other Blue would do something about the armor’s strength and wearer protection features first and foremost.

“What about Delta?” Washington brought up. The Blue sim soldier had the AI, making him the perfect target. “He could have taken him, or he could still be trying to power-”

The lights in the base flickered off, and a strange crackling noise rippled through the air.

“-up…” he finished with a scowl. “The Meta! He must be powering up right now! We can’t keep wasting time like this with this nonsense! If you can’t get them to stop shooting at us, then I will.”

“Whoa, whoa, I know they’re all assholes, but so am I. Plus, they’re probably just being like their usual idiot selves and got involved somehow. That doesn’t mean you have to take care of them or something!”

Not even bothering to address whatever stupidity the Blue was spouting, Agent Washington walked a bit out of their cover, activating his armor’s voice amplifier.

“~Attention, Red Team. Attention, Red Team. Cease fire, cease fire-~”

“Whoa, how did you that megaphone thing with your voice?”

“It’s a voice amplifier, it’s standard-issued; all our suits have it. Now, stop interrupting me.”

“What- What do you want, you damn dirty Blue?!” The yellowish-orange one echoed the red soldier, and Washington cut in before they could go into full-blown bickering.

“~Attention, Red Team, we are not your enemy. I am Special Agent Washington, a member of a special task force-~”

He probably should have never told Church about the voice amplifier. It got to the point where Washington nailed the Blue with a punch to get him to stop interrupting him.

“If you really are from Command, then you would know our super-secret code word then.”

“~What?!~ Oh right. Wait a sec~”

_Code word, code word…_ These guys were idiots, so…

“~The code word is…code word?~”

Wait, that worked?_ Worst secret code word ever. Of all time_, Agent Washington thought to himself as the Reds moved to stand down.

Grif knew he should never have woken up this morning. Sure, he was in a cell, but let’s face it, he could take a nap anywhere, and sleep like the dead.

Well, maybe he would have died for real, but maybe it would have been better than this shit show.

He had Sarge back in his life and questioning his leadership, what with them being equal ranked, Simmons being his usual kiss-ass self, and now there was a crazy Red _throwing a mother-to-god Puma at him!_

_Just why?! _He thought-whimpered in between yells of “Ohgodohgodohgod!”

Grif ran, huffing all the while, and barely made it to a pair of palm trees. Luckily, the trees stopped the Puma from rolling and crushing him.

He did not appreciate the Blue bastard laughing at him and saying, “Did you see that? That Red guy got messed up!”

“What the fuck was that for?!” Grif shrieked between pants. Maybe Simmons was right, and he should consider actual exercise for more than…five minutes.

…

Nah. He still got away in time.

At least Sarge reprimanding him did wonders to draw the monster’s wrath on the others. Grif watched with wide eyes as the Red guy tossed a bunch of other stuff at his teammates.

Church was entertained. Until the Reds barged into their hiding spot, drawing the Meta’s gunfire on them.

“Hey, get your own cover!”

“What the hell is that thing?” the maroon guy (Simmons?) squeaked out.

“Oh that? Well, remember Tex?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, this is the Meta. Think of him as eight…of her.”

No offense, but Texas, Beta, whoever, wasn’t nearly as scary as the rampaging Meta tossing entire jeeps around like they were softballs.

Serious, what the fuck? Did powering up mean this Agent Maine guy went even more insane?

Agent Hard-ass ordered at them, “Church, you and the Reds keep it busy. I’m going to help Caboose.”

The Freelancer ran off.

“Did…did he just say keep _it_ busy? Us? How the hell do we do that?”

Sarge shrugged and noted, “Well, I think we’re in the clear there. Grif is doing a pretty good job on his own to keep this Meta busy.” As he spoke, the Meta threw a motorcycle at the slowly growing pile surrounding the cowering orange soldier.

“Keep up the good work, Grif!”

“Stop throwing things at me! You fucking jackass!”

Taking offense, the Meta tossed a giant metal tower thing plus another box.

“Ow! Okay, that actually could have taken an eye! Why does it hate me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you baited it earlier, probably? Or because you’re just easy to hate, I mean, your entire team seem to hate you and all,” Church reasoned.

“Oh, FU, you fucking Blue!”

Unfortunately, it was just too good to last.

Eventually, the Meta caught on to having an audience and his retribution was as immediate as the Mongoose flung just barely short the doorway, causing the building to shake ominously.

Church and the rest of the Reds scattered as more large objects flew in their direction.

:: How are you guys doing with the Meta? ::

_Oh, so now you check on us?_

“We’re going to fucking die!” Church screeched as he rolled barely clear of a another thrown crate full of unknown metals bits and pieces. How many fucking boxes did this base have?

He knew he should have never come back here! Why did he open his big fucking mouth and tell the crazy Freelancer where he could find his even crazier ex-Freelancer buddy?

(_Because Caboose would have told him_ the voice in his head – who did not sound like Delta! – reminded him).

And he would have. Caboose was dumb like that. Heck, Ari would have told the agent just because of his stupid answering principle.

Like he asserted earlier, nothing good ever came of coming to Zanzibar.

Finally, goddamn Washington showed up with a big-ass modified machine gun and chased the Meta away.


	11. Bittersweet, the Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bittersweet - Bitter(sweet) / woody / climbing nightshade, Amara Dulcis, fellenwort, felonwood, poisonberry, poisonflower, scarlet berry, snakeberry, trailing nightshade / bittersweet, violet bloom  
Meaning: truth, honesty, loyalty

“Speaking”

~exaggerated, amplified, modulated, playful~

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

< direct mental communication via neural implant: AI and host >

_“**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

As expected, the Meta got smart and ran off using the time-thing.

“Damn it, it’s gone! You idiots! We almost had it!”

Washington threw his chain gun to the floor, Church running up to his side.

“Almost had it? We didn’t have jack!” Grif shouted back.

_Whoops, looks like someone wasn’t happy to be alive,_ Church sarcastically remarked to himself. But he kind of did agree with Agent Hard Ass, so…

“He means before you Reds came and fucked up everything. It was crippled, then you guys showed up and let it become the Meta 2.0, destroy-everything edition.”

“Oh right,” Sarge drawled. “Sure, it looked like you fellas had everythin’ under control by the time we arrived.”

He threw the older man the finger. “Oh, up yours, Red. It’s not like you guys did anything outgoing.”

Simmons stared blankly at him. “It threw our car at us,” the maroon soldier slowly enunciated.

“Yeah, and I’m fine, thanks for asking,” the yellow-orange guy added, shooting his teammate a look.

Agent Washington regretted ever involving _simulation soldiers_ in this. They were useless. But he doubted Command would send him anyone better, especially when they were treading thin ice with the Oversight Committee already.

Not that he would trust anyone they sent, anyways. The people left in Project Freelance were… He banished the line of thought and went to address the Reds and Blues.

“Great, now the Meta is more powerful than it was before. You three are sticking with us from now on.”

“Oh, and why should we?”

Agent Washington drew himself up. “_Because_, it’s your fault the Meta got away and got powerful. I can’t possibly take it down with only myself, Church, and- wait, Church didn’t you say Ariel took Gamma to shut down the generators? And-”

The Freelancer and Church quickly realized they have left Caboose alone and unconscious. Sure, Washington gave him his healing unit, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of time to check out what was wrong with him.

“Wait, wasn’t that South chick with him?”

“Yeah, so…?”

If she died, then all the better for him. He never wanted that traitorous bitch to join them in the first place.

They ran back to the upper level.

The other Freelancer and Caboose had been laid out in only their body suits, the soft green glow of the healing unit cascading over the area.

Agent Washington tried not to stare at South. 

Her assets were covered, that wasn’t the problem. It was one thing to pull a weapon on a faceless visor. It was another thing to look someone in the eye, to see the person behind the crimes.

Ash blond hair tipped in the same orchid as her armor. A narrow face with a conspicuous scar etched into her left cheek.

Otherwise…South looked relatively unmarred, face not drawn with lines of worry or anger as Washington expected.

She looked…vulnerable.

Like this, South didn’t look like a person capable of abandoning their brother, their twin.

As a strange contrast, the Blue was heavily scarred, something Washington would have never expected underneath the helmet.

“Ariel, how are they?” Church questioned. “For that matter, what the fuck man? What happened? I tried calling you several times!”

“…weren’t we supposed to be using radio silence? Also, woke up about five minutes ago. Figured something happened to Caboose and South since the Meta had Delta from what I remember before he knocked me out like these two, so I came straight up here.”

“So, the Meta did take Delta,” Agent Washington sighed. “What about Gamma?”

“Him, too. Actually, Gamma used one of the base’s helper droids to drop a crate on top of me. Didn’t actually break anything, but my head bounced off the floor pretty hard. Instant knock-out. Still have the Domed Energy Shield, though, so that’s something.”

The agent snorted. “I told not to trust Gamma. And don’t try using the enhancement, you need an AI or else it will kill you. I’m not exaggerating; even a fully trained operative could only get it to work for a few seconds and it was a close thing.”

“Noted” Ariel acceded. “As for Caboose and South, the Meta seemed to have knocked them out. No noticeable trauma around the neural implant site or the helmet insertion drive. The Meta made a clean removal which is astonishing if what I think happened, happened. Meta go on a berserker rampage?”

“Bull’s eye,” Church grunted. “Wait, you knew it would?”

“Well, I didn’t consider crudely surging energy through one’s armor to fix a power issue would entail _less_ mental damage, on top of adding two new AIs,” Ariel deadpanned as he began pulling the two back into their armors, face set in clinical detachment the whole time.

Agent Washington was impressed; he didn’t think any of these guys could actually act, look, or sound serious for more than- strike that, ever.

South began to stir slowly. She jerked away as Ariel cinched the last seal in place.

“Wha- get your hands off, pervert!”

“Doctor,” Ariel corrected her. “Or at least the closest you’re going to find to a medic out here. The two of you were knocked out by the Meta.”

A frown pulled at the Recovery operative’s face. Something about that statement sounded…achingly reminiscent of a different sort of medic…

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

Washington would bet the indigo soldier rolled his eyes. Again, that echo.

Maybe Washington should reconsider his mental health if he was comparing an incompetent sim to an actual professional, one whom held the Freelancers’ deepest respect second only to the Director himself at one point (the Counselor they could all agree on was creepier than Florida on his bad days).

One of the few people in Command Washington wished had survived.

“Just briefing you in case you suffered short-term memory loss from the hit. If you want to know, Caboose is still under for some unknown reason.”

The Blue stirred but didn’t wake, mumbling incoherently.

South finally registered the other patient, strapping her helmet back on before commenting, “Wow, and I thought Florida and Maine had some pretty bad scars.”

Ariel frowned then went to placed Caboose’s helmet back on his head. There were some stories best left for a different time than a battle’s aftermath.

Agent Washington clearly didn’t trust Ariel’s assessment as he looked over Caboose’s vitals with the BioComm then said he would call in Command for an extraction.

When Simmons very un-subtly asked Church to do his ‘ghost’ thing, Ariel sent a stream of disapproval at the Blue.

Unfortunately, Church, while agreeing with him, also made a good point:

[Do you trust ‘Command’ to fix this? Like they fixed you?]

He hated it when Alpha made smug sense, and he hated it when Church made more asshole-like sense.

But if the AI was going to do this, they couldn’t have a Freelancer audience.

* * *

Sending Simmons alone as a distraction sounded stupid from the get-go.

Seriously. The guy was offering a token distraction at best.

_Note to self, never bet on Simmons for any sort of card game, or game in general involving deception._

The guy couldn’t even meet Church’s level of roleplaying, and their resident ‘ghost’ wore Donut and gave himself away several times, first being the lead negotiator in the first place.

Shaking his head, Ariel called out, “Hey, Agent Washington? Do you think Gamma might have left some evidence on the computer mainframe? I’m sure you have more experience than we do with computers, what with your experience with AI, but surely, we can lend you an extra pair of eyes and hands, right Simmons? And while we’re at it, maybe Agent South can tell us a little of what she can remember before the Meta knocked her out.”

“Wha- oh, right. Yeah, I’m sure I can find something in there we can use~” the Red chuckled nervously.

South snorted, “What’s didn’t you get? You guys get your asses chased by these crazy guys then the Meta pops up from out of nowhere and sends Big Blue and me into lala land.”

Nevertheless, she did draw over to the three of them if only to make Agent Washington tense up again for her amusement.

Unfortunately, Alpha or Church, they both had a tendency to take their sweet time doing things, the former out of overconfidence, and the latter out of inexperience and impatience.

That and Agent Washington apparently had a bullshit radar or just didn’t think they would find anything in the computer system. And turns, out, he didn’t exactly care about their opinions in general.

Go figure.

In his defense, their respective teams hardly made a great showing of their skills what with their first, second, and third, horrible impressions.

The two of them fumbled and flailed, but they didn’t exactly have much material to keep the agent busy for more than ten minutes or so.

The agent stomped back only to stop short, visor turned to the kneeling and frozen form of Church, his ‘spirit’ coming into focus a few scant seconds later.

Long story short…

“Haha, you probably are wondering what’s going on…look, I can explain.”

The orange guy decided to take initiative and speak. “Yeah, so see, when Simmons and Ariel were talking about boring nerd stuff, in reality, they were just distracting you from whatever the Blue guy was doing.”

Sarge growled, “He means, explain the fact he’s a ghost, soldier!”

“Oh yeah…he can explain that, too.”

“Idiot.”

_Calm before the storm._ Ariel could practically feel the buildup of anxiety, paranoia, and distrust from Agent Washington. Agent South Dakota just looked more confused.

Church tried to get the guy to relax, unsuccessfully, as the agent only found his voice and began to ask them the hard questions.

“What is going on?” 

Ariel did not like that tone.

[Ariel, say something!]

[Say…! Say what? I’m not the one who procrastinated. You couldn’t have gotten out of there a minute sooner?] Ariel messaged back, annoyance tinging the reply with sparks and whirlwinds of worry/panic/think of something yourself. [We need to tell him something! But considering this is an actual Freelancer and not a rank-and-file soldier, I don’t think he’s going to seriously buy the ghost story]

Church growled, [What the hell are we going to do about this train wreck then? You’re the certified genius!]

[Just play along, anyways? I’m kind of busy]

Ariel knelt by a slowly waking Caboose, bringing Caboose’s vitals back on display while he elevated his head, eying the changing numbers.

[Fuck, play-!]

“I don’t want explanations, I want the truth, now. When were you guys going to tell me about this? How can you be a ghost?”

_Fuck Ari-! _“Fine, don’t get your pants in a twist. Why don’t we start at the beginning? You see, Caboose here kind of killed me…multiple times if you count how many bodies I lost when possessing them.”

“Not my fault,” Caboose moaned. “Tucker did it.”

“Shut up,” Church snipped.

“Church,” Ariel absentmindedly chastised, more focused on the subroutines he had covertly running trace programs through Caboose’s mind for further damage than the drama unfolding around him.

“He killed you. As in…dead.”

“Then you understand the situation, Agent,” Sarge grunted. He gestured to Church with his shotgun. “We reached an agreement then with the Blue there-”

“Agreement? I seem to remember kicking your guys’ ass, and you didn’t exactly have much of a choice,” Church contended.

Sarge growled low, shotgun drawing up.

In the typical manner of Reds and Blues, everyone not Caboose or Ariel got into a meaningless argument about semantics, word choice, and who did what to whose team.

Agent Washington shouted at all of them, “Enough! You, Sarge. How did you build him a body?”

“Well, with my robot kit, of course. I had some spare parts after I built our own helper robot Lopez.”

Lopez, the robot whom only the late Andy and Ariel (and sometimes Donut) could understand to any extent.

Oh, and apparently, they had their own robot kit – two even – and the Reds probably stole them like their shovels before Ariel arrived and cracked down on the security systems around their armory and workshop areas.

“And that didn’t strike any of you as odd? That you were issued robot kits designed to look like soldiers?” Washington reasoned.

Ariel had that thought, too. Considering Agent Florida probably ordered the robot kits, maybe the late agent wanted to encourage or guide Sarge’s penchant toward highly destructive, quirky, and/or unstable engineering.

He normally didn’t look into other people’s bios, but the note on how Sarge ended up in the simulation soldier program because of some sketchy robotic work kind of drew his and Gamma’s virtual eyes.

“Well, that’s just standard issue equipment. Right?” Simmons defended rather weakly and unsure. “ I, mean, the indigo guy there can build a minicomputer to hook up to the local wifi channels, plus how to disengage the emergency lockdown procedures of a military installation, and he’s only a corporal-level tech.”

“What- No! Wait, the corporal can do what- Never mind. Simmons, tell me, have you ever seen anyone else with a fully stocked robotics kit, much less three of them?”

“Hmm. You know, we don’t exactly get out much so…”

Sarge saying Command shipped them upgraded ones after going to Rat’s Nest didn’t make any more sense considering what the Blues (minus Caboose) knew about being simulation troopers. And to prove his point of why Command didn’t just hand out expensive equipment, Sarge completely forgone fixing Lopez’s Spanish setting because it never occurred to him to do that.

“Your team sucks,” Church summed it up.

“At least the leader of our team isn’t a robot. Blue-bot.”

“Hey!” Caboose yelled, jumping to his feet.

The Blue wobbled while standing, and a reluctant Church and less reluctant Ariel moved to steady him before he could take a nosedive back to the ground.

“That’s not nice. Church is a great leader because he’s a gay-robot-ghost!”

“Oh, hell no, not this again! Caboose!” The Blue dropped him.

Ariel spammed data at Church in the AI equivalent of angry sputtering as Caboose’s weight shifted fully on him.

Simmons snickered, “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Stop it!” Agent Washington screamed; his patience was completely lost at this point. “That is _enough._ I can’t take your constant fighting. You have to be some of the most immature, unprofessional soldiers I’ve ever met!”

While Ariel could understand Agent Washington’s frustration (he lived in the same base as Tucker and Caboose for several months, not to mention their neighbors’ constant harassment, then had the pleasure of only having Gamma and Church for company for over a year), the agent didn’t have to go as far as he did by revealing the cold hard facts of the Red vs. Blue simulations: they were not soldiers but unknowing cannon fodder recruited for the benefit of the Freelancers.

Ariel knew Project Freelancer didn’t care about the lowly soldiers they drew discreetly from the pool of UNSC new recruits and highly unstable militiamen and career men and women.

How many times had he skimmed over reports he shouldn’t be seeing? Read about the casualties among the simulation troopers as they became mere footnotes in the grand scheme of the project. It was inevitable with their lack of formal training in various equipment and areas for 83% of cases, ludicrous scenarios, and the Freelancers who could wipe them out without fancy equipment.

The longer the project went, the more disdainful and dismissive the Freelancers grew to view the people they frequently went up against to test out their skills and equipment for ‘live simulation training’.

They didn’t respect them, and Agent Washington certainly felt the same if he thought they were nothing, just fake soldiers recruited for the Freelancers’ benefit.

“You’re making that up,” Sarge weakly said at last.

“Am I? Tell me then, name one thing that happened not directly preceded by Command calling you or someone to your base. One thing. No? Anything? I didn’t think so. You three go assess the vehicles, see if we can use of them. Caboose, Ariel, search for any indication of where the Meta may have gone. South, go with them,” the coldhearted Freelancer ordered.

The three headed out.

A buzz in his helmet signaled Church patching the feed from his helmet to him. Splitting his concentration, Ariel mindlessly moved aside the rubble with Caboose, scanning the area while he had half an ear on the conversation.

:: Church, get back in your armor. You’re too conspicuous like that ::

:: Fine :: Church grunted, not happy. :: But first- ::

:: No, no first. Get in your armor, that’s an order, _soldier_ ::

:: But I really think you should hear what it is- ::

Washington wasn’t having it, but Church was a bigger stubborn ass than the Freelancer. After a moment, the soldier continued in a blank slow voice, :: I have a message from Delta ::

_Delta?_ Ariel wasn’t surprised to hear the embodiment of logic managed something like leaving a message in Caboose’s head by manipulating the mental construct of himself.

Memory is the key.

Of course Delta would say something like that. Was it for Washington’s benefit? Ariel suspected at least one of the agent’s underlying reasons for chasing down the Meta.

:: Memory is the key :: Washington repeated.

:: Yeah, I get it, it stumped me, too. But Delta said you would know. So? Do you know what he meant? Honestly, it just sounds like the Sphinx’s riddle to me ::

Silence.

:: Are you going to ignore me or- ::

:: Gather your equipment and supplies. We’re leaving ::

:: What?! ::

Ariel switched the radio off.

Washington ran down to where the Reds and the rest of the Blues milled.

“What’s the status of the vehicles? Report.”

“You could have asked nicely,” Grif grumbled.

“Yes, I could. _Report._”

The report: they didn’t have any material for more than maybe one set of wheels, but they needed days. Washington gave them a few hours.

Obviously, even with Ariel’s help and Sarge’s uncanny expertise, it wasn’t going to happen.

“We can’t exactly just magic up working or ready-made parts,” Ariel reasoned out after Sarge gave his own blunt remark of “Not going to happen, son.”

Washington apparently could listen to reason, when he felt like it, at least. “Alright. We still need at least three sets of wheels. And I think I know where we can get them. Delta was right; Memory _is_ the key.”

“But what does that mean?!” Church interrupted, frustrated with both the Freelancer and Ariel skirting around the topic.

“It means,” Washington drawled, “there’s only one thing that remembers everything about these AIs and where they come from. _It_ will know how to stop them. We need to get our hands on the Alpha.”

Church froze.

Without any prompting the Alpha AI in question entered the hypertime.

[What the fuck?]

“The Alpha. The big powerful AI…you told us you didn’t believe he existed,” South exclaimed. “Wait, you don’t mean… Fuck, Wash, you can’t mean-!”

“We’re going, and I want no complaints from anyone, especially you. That means our destination is clear: we’re going home.”

…

“We’re going to Command.”

[…uh, newsflash, the Alpha isn’t at Command. Doesn’t he know that? Wait, he isn’t supposed to know where the Alpha is anyways, no one should besides the head bastards, right?]

[…I think he knows, Church]

The cobalt soldier scoffed within virtual space. [If he’s so knowledgeable, then why tell us to go to Command? Why the hell are we going to the big and bad place where all these Freelancer asses report to their leaders? And what the hell does he mean I know how to stop the big scary Freelancer monster? If he hasn’t noticed, I could do jackshit about him]

[…Command is home to more than just databases and equipment. They do keep the storage for all the defective AIs there]

[Defective AIs? Like who- wait…didn’t he say…?]

[After everything that happened, Church, you and I both know Command, especially the Director and Counselor, aren’t known for their honesty. Your creator in particular is respected for his ruthless edge and razor sharp intellect. Unfortunately, wisdom wasn’t exactly strong enough for a fragment in its own right]

[…he’s going to fuck us over somehow, isn’t he?]

And Church wasn’t talking about Command this time.

Ariel chose not to reply.

* * *

South and the Reds were able to procure a Warthog and Mongoose; the other jeep was manned by Recovery soldiers and chasing them all over Valhalla.

Due to technical difficulties of a jammed gun and the inability of the Reds to fire their personal weapons in a moving vehicle for some reason, they were decidedly on the run from the other jeep.

The Freelancer looked between sheer exhilaration from the chase and pointed annoyance she still didn’t have a weapon on her to end the endless chase.

“So, are we just going to watch them struggle or-?” Ariel trailed off as Washington relayed a deadpan expression through pure body language.

“Ugh, I knew this wouldn’t work,” the Freelancer groaned at last.

Church snorted. “Of course it didn’t work; none of our plans fucking ever work. I could have saved you this shitshow telling you that.”

Agent Washington did a pretty spot-on impression of the Sarge’s Southern accent (practice from mocking a certain other person’s accent).

“~We can go secure us some vehicles. We’re better with cars than the Blues. Don’t worry, nothing will go wrong.~ Why did I listen to him?”

“I told you not to.”

Washington glared at Church. “Yeah, well, I stopped listening to you three bases ago.”

“Well, that’s not very-” Caboose and Ariel began.

“And I never started listening to you.”

[Your old Freelancer pal is an ass, seriously]

[…well, he was more like Simmons before the whole Epsilon incident. Now’s he’s just a deliberate jerk…but I’m sure he means well?]

[Sure] Church sarcastically replies. [Well enough he’s going to get us all fucked over by the end of this]

“Seriously, though…” The Reds’ attempt to cause the other car to crash didn’t exactly pan out like they wanted considering the Warthog simply drove into the base and out the other side where the Reds stopped for a moment.

“Move, you fuckers!” South yelled, Mongoose cutting across the Warthog’s path, forcing the driver to swerve quickly. It created a long enough delay for the Reds to peel out before the gunner could realign his sight.

“Well, I better go save them,” the agent sighed, walking slowly down their cliffside lookout spot. “I hate my job.”

“Well, at least you’re getting plenty of practice at it,” Caboose unhelpfully chirped after the agent.

“Shut up.”

The moment the agent was out of immediate sight, Church told them to watch his body as he ran off to find Texas.

“Church, wait-”

And he was gone.

Ariel knew Church knew how likely he was going to find any trace of Texas. Alpha was always big on denial; it was why the AI was easy to fragment with simulated scenarios. The AI thought too much sometimes and not enough about the things he should really be focusing on.

“…”

Caboose was staring at the prone robot.

“Caboose, it’s empty, Church and I disabled the slap-together program Sarge made for it over a year ago.”

Caboose shook his head and kept eying the body.

Ariel sighed.

* * *

Good news: the Reds took out the Warthog before it could kill any of them.

Bad news: the Reds took out the Warthog.

Worse news…

“Dude, in the future, don’t ask for shit to happen!”

The Hornet and pilot did not look exactly happy about them tearing up their operation here.

:: Caboose, Ariel, what is Church doing? ::

“Oh well…doing? He isn’t doing anything but standing here with me, watching you get killed by the big spaceship,” Caboose clumsily lied. Not even Iowa would have been tricked by that.

:: Oh, really? Can you put him on then? ::

“Oh, uh…psst, Ariel, he doesn’t believe me, what do I do?”

Ariel closed his eyes for a second. “Caboose, you hung up on him.”

On cue, Church’s body suddenly fell over. From where Ariel could see, Agent Washington gave into a childish impulse to stomp his feet then ran inside the former Blue Base.

“Well, I hope Church found what he needed because he’s out of time.”

“Oh, you mean like catharsis?”

“Unlikely but…” Ariel paused, slowly turning to fully face the other Blue. “Caboose, when did you know that word?”

…was Caboose possessed by some other evil AI who slipped past Ariel despite his own hyper vigilance over their radio and comm systems?

* * *

Church knew Ariel was going to be a bit pissed he ran off like this. Church also knew he wouldn’t find anything, not if the Meta came here and did what he thought he did to Texas.

Like he just told the Freelancer bastard, Texas was like him. An AI, the Beta.

Vulnerable to the Meta and his go-fucking-happy AI-stealing. If she was anywhere…she was probably with all the other AI who were going nuts inside Agent Maine.

Church clenched a titanium fist at the thought. _No, no, that didn’t fucking happen to _her.

The Beta was stronger than some half-rate fragments.

She had to be. She was…she was Allison.

_She was the Beta,_ a traitorous part of his Reimann Matrix reminded him. _Failure._

Agent Washington said something actually somewhat nice…too bad the cockbite kind of ruined the moment by going back and complaining/yelling at him about the fucking mission they all knew was going to be fucked up no matter what Church did or did not di-

A loud explosion rocked the base.

The two ran out immediately to find the Hornet Church noticed earlier on his HUD not much more than twisted pieces of metal and fire, and a bunch of Reds plus South Dakota and Ariel gaping at…Caboose?

“Look at what I did, Agent Washington! I took out the giant spaceship!”

_Caboose did what?!_

“You got to be kidding. Caboose can’t- Ariel?”

It had to be a joke. Except no one was saying otherwise.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, especially about a Blue, but he’s right this time!” Sarge exclaimed. “This crazy feller pulled another O’ Malley or somethin’. Came right above the Hornet and landed on top of it, shot out the pilot, then jumped off last minute before it crashed.”

“Caboose, you’re saying Caboose did that…”

Caboose, the biggest idiot of the Blues, the guy whose mental impressions were insane like him. _Caboose_ singlehandedly took out the ship.

That was something Church might expect out of Ariel, but Caboose?!

Seriously?!

[Ariel! Say fucking something already!]

“What is wrong with these sim troopers?” South finally said. “They don’t make sense at all…a crazy stunt driver who somehow avoided getting anyone shot despite having no cover most of the time, a spineless version of York, a crazy old guy who builds actually decent robots in his spare time, some kind of genius tech, a freaking _ghost_, and now this shit? Wash, where did you find these guys?”

“…around,” the other Freelancer finally muttered, tone just done.

So, they came to an unspoken agreement to ignore Caboose’s decidedly not-Caboose-like stunt.

They had wheels (more than expected, really, after they pretty much cleared out the Recovery team in the immediate vicinity), but they needed a plan slightly less bare bones than charging inside Command.

Agent Washington asked for suggestions.

As expected, the suggestions ranged from, don’t do this, call Command, and build something crazy.

“Why are we invading Command anyway?” Simmons inquired.

Oh, so they totally skipped over the reason why the Reds nearly died, didn’t they?

“We’re going to Command to unlock the Alpha.”

“Who?”

The Blues’ leader sighed, exasperated, “The Alpha. You know all those crazy AIs we had to deal with these past few years? They were copied from this one.”

“What? You can’t copy an AI!”

Simmons wasn’t as blind as his teammates; he actually had a brain and decent bit of common sense and intellectual comprehension.

“He’s right,” Ariel agreed on principle. He knew that. Church knew that. Heck, the Freelancers must suspect something by now if they didn’t before the break-in and rumors of the Alpha AI.

The Reds did not want to go. Ariel wouldn’t, either, if someone told him to risk his life and when asked why, was told he would understand _after_ he reached the point of no return.

The moment Command got wind of another break-in attempt; all hell would break loose for sure.

Luckily for Washington’s rapidly shortening temperament, the Reds were easy to negotiate deals.

Basically, give Sarge the impression of getting what idiotic he thing he wanted, Simmons would follow, and Grif would the same because it was too much effort to argue otherwise. Even if it was a harebrained idea of a demotion Washington didn’t have the authority to officiate as a Freelancer operative with no real say over rankings. But Reds.

The newly demoted Minor Junior Private Negative First Class Grif just looked done with this bull-shitty day.

“Agent Washington!” Caboose chirped from above everyone. “I have an idea.”

“Should I even ask at this point?”

Church frowned. “I don’t know. Normally, I would say Caboose and ideas don’t exactly go together…but then he took out that Hornet…sure, tell us what you have in mind.”

“We can drive there!”

“Got my hopes up too soon,” Church grumbled, turning away.

“Wait, wait, I’m not finished! We’re going to Freelancer City, right? Where all the Freelancers are from. And these are Freelancer cars. If they think we are Freelancers because we’re driving their cars, then they will just let us inside!”

“…did Caboose come up with a half-decent idea? Am I just dreaming this whole day up or something?” Church thought aloud. Ariel clanked the butt of his rifle against the back of Church’s shoulder.

Washington shook his head. “None of you guys look like Freelancers or Recovery Agents. They’ll see through us immediately.”

Caboose turned around to survey the vehicles they dragged out.

“They can’t see inside a tank. Oh, and Ariel’s real smart. Can you make us some disguises?”

“Dis-disguises? Come on, you can’t expect-” South started.

Agent Washington shot her a look, shutting the rogue agent up. “Ariel, can you do what Caboose suggested?”

Ariel smirked. “Well, it’s either that or everyone but Church and our actual Freelancer agents find a way to cram into our only tank, right?”

Sarge and Simmons turned to immediately look at Grif. “Alright, Blue, we’re counting on ya!”

“Hey, why’d you look at me before saying that?”

Simmons stated quite plainly, “Frankly, I rather not get jammed between the tank’s inside wall and your flab.”

“Hey, this is mostly _your_ mass!”

“No, it’s my body parts you’ve been ruining despite all the times I told you not to do that!”

South and Washington at this point seemed to have learned to tune the bickering pair.

* * *

Somehow, they made it inside, Caboose, Ariel, plus Church’s empty body driving the tank, the Reds riding their Warthog under a hologram (based on adaptive camouflage tech, not that the Freelancers knew that), the unconscious Recovery agent Church possessed riding with Washington in the other Warthog, while South also cloaked under a hologram drove the Mongoose.

When Washington said Church was coming with him inside the AI storage facility, the AI got a feeling. Feeling confirmed when he came back from shutting the door to find the agent taking out some capsule and getting a barrage of images cramming into his Reimann matrix.

He stumbled, groaning in pain at the unexpected connection.

What did Ariel say about this guy? He was the Alpha’s – him, fuck, fine, he’ll admit it! – memories about all the bad thing that happened? Well, almost everything, but Ari always skirted around the subject when Church asked.

…great, so _Epsilon_ was sending that shit into his head? He got rid of the memories for a fucking good reason! He was good just hearing it secondhand from Ariel the first time, he didn’t need this crap!

“Church!”

“Ugh, ow…I-I’m fine. It’s just…what the hell is this thing? It’s like it’s sending images into my brain…is it the Alpha?” Damn if he didn’t try to play along as long as possible.

“No. It isn’t. This isn’t the Alpha. This is Epsilon, my AI,” Agent Washington answered, tone so pointedly monotone, Church could tell the agent must be feeling pretty shitty about coming anywhere near his old crazy AI.

Long story short, they came for Epsilon because it told them to find Memory with a capital M.

He was the last AI created after which the Alpha was left pretty damn useless, you know, considering he lost most of his memories and all.

Hell, Delta was the first one to go for a reason; logic was the ability to understand, to know the shit Project Freelancer was doing to him for their own greedy, short-sighted goals. And no, not the whole magic bullet bullshit Washington was spouting.

Sure, Ariel explained to him Project Freelancer _was_ originally proposed to find a way to use a mix of competent soldiers and powerful, deliberately aggressive AIs to push forward the war effort. _Was _being the operative word.

And maybe the Director thought his main reason for torturing him was to get the AIs they needed to conduct their experiments.

Bull. Shit.

Not after the Beta – Texas- appeared. The first true fragment.

All those good intentions fell to the wayside. _That _was the truth.

“After everything that happened, there was a breaking point: Alpha couldn’t keep its sanity and its memory. So, it purged them. That fragment became Epsilon. And I was unlucky enough to have it assigned to me.”

“So…you knew. That’s why you went nuts. You experienced the Alpha’s memories, the torture.”

Washington gave a curt nod. “Not exactly. Our superiors never explained exactly what they were doing. I got flashes when Epsilon was put into my head. Glimpses and broken pieces of what the Director did to it, did to all the fragments and Alpha. Like what you’re experiencing just by being close to it.”

Memory and sanity couldn’t coexist, like Washington just told him. Obviously, Epsilon wasn’t sane if he knew all about the jacked up shit the cockbiting Director, his _creator_ did to him, did to them all.

Church was an AI, a smart one; his mind worked several hundred times faster than a human’s (he could do better, but it wasn’t easy to get past the Director’s fuckery and firewalls, and he absolutely refused to let Ariel tinker in his matrix).

So, he figured out pretty quickly the moment Alpha _and _Epsilon was brought up in the conversation where this whole fucking conversation was leading.

_Jig was up._ Washington knew. He knew what Epsilon knew, after all. It would be kind of embarrassing if he didn’t figure it out, otherwise.

And now the Freelancer was finally telling him his real plan: get the crazy AI with all the dirt on Project Freelancer to the authorities and get them to arrest the Director who put them all through this crazy shit.

While that was all and good…

“Great, so use Epsilon to defeat the Director. Good plan. But in the meantime, what about the Meta? You said we needed the Alpha to take him down. What, are we looking for him or…?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Agent Washington reaffirmed. “After the first attack, Command knew it was too dangerous to keep the Alpha nearby. The other AIs would just convince more Freelancers to go after it again. So, they decided to hide it in a place no one would find it.”

Church growled in frustration, “But where? Shouldn’t we be there instead of here?!” _Stop dicking around and say it already! _

“Church, you have to listen to me. Delta was the logic; he could figure out things long before anyone else could. He left the message the way he did in a way only _you_ could find for a reason. And in a way letting me see you get it.”

“Where are you going with this, Washington?”

“I’m saying, I know what you are, even if you don’t.”

“…”

“I know why you can live seemingly without a body, why they stuck you in some backward canyon where no one ever goes, then transferred out everyone at your outpost to a different base besides you. Why you always went with whatever Delta said.”

Church still said nothing.

“Why you didn’t feel anything when Omega got inside your head.”

Actually, apparently Ariel was semi-aware of what happened and told Church Omega was just freaked out to find the Alpha after all this time. Then Tex knocked the crazy-ass AI out of Church’s circuits.

Although, why the Meta haven’t really gone after Church since obtaining the other AI was still a bit of a mystery.

Unless, of course, the whole more than a half dozen AIs crammed into one tiny space did something to the guy’s head.

Fucking likely and another reason to stay the fuck away from the guy.

“Why you can jump from body to body like it could. Church, there is no such thing as ghosts. You’re one of them. You’re…an AI. You are the Alpha.”

“…”

Washington waited for his words to sink in.

Church opened his mouth.

“No shit, I am.”

His battle rifle immediately raised.

The Blue – the Alpha – raised up his hands in surrender. “Hey, what did we talk about the whole homicidal kick you have going on in there? I figured out I was an AI a while back. Kind of hard not to what with all the evidence.”

Washington didn’t lower his weapon. He didn’t trust AI, not a bit. Not even Delta or even Theta if he was still intact. And this?

“But the Alpha thing…are you sure I’m not just some other defective program they couldn’t be bothered to waste perfectly good holographic space in this hall of weird lights and crazy image projectors?”

“I’m sure,” Washington gritted out, the barrel of his weapon not lowering. “Why else would they waste the time and resources? And this place is _meant_ to store AIs and data.”

“Are you sure? I, mean, Texas could do the same thing I can. Maybe she’s this all-powerful Alpha?”

“I fought with her, Church. And she was around _before_ Epsilon was created.”

“Right…” Good thing Tex wasn’t here. She would drop kick him to the next planet if she heard how he threw her under the frigate like that. “Well, she’s still can do the same thing I can. Maybe you should go look for her and get her to help. She’ll do a lot of things for the right price.”

Church wasn’t sure if he should feel a bit defensive with the way Washington kept nagging on how the Freelancer heads doted on Texas or something.

The man wasn’t wrong considering Texas was the turning point to, well, everything.

He still said Washington sounded a bit jealous there.

At least the Freelancer confirmed one of two things: either he didn’t know about the Beta program or he wasn’t about to come clean about her to him.

“Church, you need to listen. Yes, I don’t know everything, but I do know is that the Meta and this program needs to be shut down. And I need your help to do it.”

The alarms suddenly began to blare.

“Now what?!”

“Looks like we’re out of time. They must have finally noticed we infiltrated the AI storage unit. We have to leave. Now.”


	12. Field of Poppies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to just post everything tonight. Enoy whoever is actually reading this. Maybe I'll be motivated to take a crack at the sequel I sort of started.

“Speaking”

~exaggerated, amplified, modulated, playful~

_Thoughts or emphasis_

*sound effects*

// _Flashback sequence_ //

:: Open or group comm channel ::

[Private comm channel]

< direct mental communication via neural implant: AI and _host_ >

_“**Foreign language, translated**”_

“**Talking under incomplete possessions**”

* * *

{White - consolation}

Well bad news on top of bad news.

“South, what happened, where is Ariel?”

The other Freelancer was noticeably covered in explosive residue, and she had a few additions Washington did not approve.

“Him? After he helped me blow up Command’s armory and vehicles-”

“Wait, you guys did what?” Simmons gawked.

“Cool your heels Sally Mae, we blew everything but our own rides out of here. And man, that was awesome. Even snagged some extra ammo and weapons out of it.”

“South, we had a deal,” Washington growled, hands clenching around his battle rifle.

“No, you just told me shit while I was bleeding on the ground until Nurse Ari fixed me up. Besides, you’ll need competent shooter on your side. Unless you think these dipshits can actually cover our escape against all those angry Recovery agents rushing back to Command? Although that Ari kid does know a thing or two about his weapons and explosives, and Caboose took out a Hornet by himself probably faster than you could.”

He wanted to punch the smirk he knew the other Freelancer was wearing.

“Missy, you’re a girl after my own heart,” Sarge declared. “Say, how do you feel about the color red?”

“Well, considering my options are: get arrested or get stuck with an idiot and asshole…”

“Focus!” Washington shouted. “South, Ariel.”

“Gone. Said there was something he had to do while he was here.”

Washington punched a wall. “Fine, we’re down a man. Why do I bother issuing commands when you idiots keep disobeying my orders behind my back? Whatever, the corporal is on his own. We need a plan.”

“Well, I don’t object to any course of action leadin’ to a Blue’s eventual death,” Sarge interrupted. “We have about half a dozen squads out there, and they know our position. We were goin’ to retreat down the hall…until the two of you brought more guards through there.”

“What _are_ you guys doing?” South questioned, leaning forward to look at the computer.

Simmons gave a nervous high-pitched laugh. “Haha, nothing to see here, just you know, computer stuff. They look like they were running an update recently and, so, yeah.” The screen went dark.

“Hey, did you guys find the Alpha?” Grif asked.

Church scoffed loudly for Wash’s benefit. “Yeah about that…we found Washington’s crazy AI Epsilon instead, and it turns out he thinks _I’m _the Alpha.”

“Wait, what? How’s that possible?”

Washington growled, “Think about it! He’s transparent and can take over other people’s bodies!”

“That’s because he’s a ghost, dude.”

Church sighed. “You know what? That computer should have all the information on all of us and Project Freelancer, right? Look me up in the system.”

“Yeah…no can do, Blue.”

“What, why not?

“Well, I would love to help you, I really would but…we, you know…kind of deleted all that kind of stuff for the Blues.”

“You did what?”

“All of what stuff?”

“The everything stuff,” Simmons said as if that clarified things.

Washington threw his hands up. “I told you guys not to touch anything!”

Simmons reasoned, “But you also told us to break things, too. Since our new recruit South took care of the physical destruction, this seemed like an excellent alternative.”

Church knew the Reds were a bunch of idiots sometimes…but really? They had to take initiative now.

“You dipshits! Great, I don’t have proof, and I don’t get a paycheck.”

Washington was going to shoot one of them. The Reds and Blues were getting into another one of their moronic arguments.

“Umm, guys?”

“What, Caboose?” several voices shouted.

The other Blue didn’t look taken aback at the tension directed at him. “We kind of have a problem!”

“What kind of problem, Caboose?” Church huffed. “It can’t get any worse now short of-”

“I think I saw the Meta outside a little while ago!”

“-the Meta, oh, fantastic.”

To punctuate just how much the universe hated them, a giant clunk sounded above them.

Oh, and Ariel was right, the Meta has been following the Freelancer…and the bastard fucking knew it, too!

“You still have Epsilon?”

“Well, yeah. I haven’t chucked it into the trash. Yet.”

“Good. Also, if you do, I’ll shoot you. Come on, we need to get it to safety.”

* * *

The motor pool was mostly trashed from whatever South and Ariel did, but as promised, they saved enough vehicles for the rest of them to use.

Caboose now had another AI to add to his collection.

Was Church the only one who thought maybe making Caboose who had an obsession with all things technological hold onto the important linchpin AI wasn’t a good idea?

But then Washington said he _and _Church were staying to take care of the Meta.

“Project Freelancer had on last fail-safe: a high-powered EMP that can take out all the AIs in this facility. With the Meta here, this is our best shot at finally stopping him and shutting Project Freelancer down.”

“EMP? What’s an EMP?”

“It’s an electromagnetic pulse. Has the capability to shut down circuitry and machines. It will destroy an AI-”

“Oh, you mean an emp.”

Sarge nodded. “That’s what I was goin’ to say. Sounds like he’s talking about an emp.”

“Emp? That is _not_ how you say it.” Were they freaking serious?

“That’s how most people say it,” Sarge defended.

“No, they don’t.”

“I say it like that,” Church pointed out.

“The letters are initials standing for electromagnetic pulse. E. M. P,” Washington spelled out slowly.

“Which spells emp, derr.”

“We don’t have time for this nonsense,” Washington cut the Red off abruptly. “You’re wrong, that’s just it.”

Caboose suggested, “We can vote on it.”

“A vote? No, we are not taking a vote. I’m right, you’re wrong, it’s EMP. That’s it.”

“You’re not being very democratic,” Caboose pointed out.

“There isn’t anything democratic about being wrong. If you’re wrong, you’re just wrong. That’s that, end of discussion.”

South chortled. “Wow, I knew the old Washington was in there! You’re such a nerd, Wash.”

“Shut up. All of you! Church, put Epsilon in the car. You and I will make our way to the Director’s lab while you guys escape.”

“But what if the Meta follows us?”

“He won’t. Not with all the AIs here for the taking. Come on, Church.”

Church narrowed his cybernetic eyes. “No.”

“No?” Washington rounded on the AI soldier.

“No,” Church repeated. “I never agreed to this. I may be an AI, but I didn’t say I was the Alpha. And even if I was, this isn’t my fight.”

“Wha- This is your fight more than anything!”

Church growled, “My beef is with the Director. That’s why we have Epsilon. The Meta, on the other hand, isn’t really my problem.”

“He’s after the AI! AI like you! You _inspired_ its creation!”

AI and Freelancer glared at one another.

Church threw his helmet down.

South and Washington stepped back.

Ariel did good work, but they had limited material back in Outpost 48-A. Church’s face looked more or less human, but it was the ‘or less’ part people with sharp enough eyes could pick out.

Glittering false green eyes dared for the Freelancers to make a remark. At this point, he might go off on either of them.

“I don’t care about you guys. I hate Command, I hate the Freelancers, I hate everything about Project Freelancer full stop. I might be this Alpha, but I’m Church now. Epsilon has my memories. So, ergo, I don’t actually remember what those cockbites did to me, so why should it matter to me like it does to you? Fuck, after what happened earlier, it can keep them, too!”

And even so…did Church even really have emotions? Or was it a reconstruction of the emotions he lost? A final present from his asshole creator.

Sure, he was all for Project Freelancer getting its comeuppance, but he didn’t feel the all-pervading need to give his vengeance a personal touch. And the Meta didn’t really have anything to do with him (besides being the whole freaky aspiration part of it).

Sure, Sigma probably messed him up the worse out of the trio of malicious programs who wanted to take their pound of flesh from the entity who essentially tossed them out like garbage.

Sure, the Meta was a problem for him, too, not just everyone in general.

But if the rest of the UNSC found about Project Freelancer, wouldn’t they send someone to finally put the Meta down? Wasn’t that the purpose of the Spartans or something? Fight the guys regular soldiers couldn’t? There were still some around last he checked, plus the newer lineup needed experience, didn’t they? Taking out a corrupt military program sounded like prime field experience to him.

Washington said a bunch of things. He wasn’t really listening…except for the last part.

Church sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there are a few loose ends I still have with the Meta.”

Caboose would keep an eye on his body for him.

Not that he would really need it.

After emphasizing how the EMP would do away with all the AI in the facility, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Even the Reds probably knew what would happen (he spent years living in the same dead-end canyon, he knew them a lot better than some Freelancer. They were still upset with Washington and were just getting the guy’s goat. But you didn’t go around breaking into highly encrypted databases or learning about highly complex robotics without knowing what an emp did to _all _forms of tech, AI included).

If Church went with Washington and helped him stop the Meta…he was going down with the fucker.

…he didn’t want to die, but a part of Church did agree with the agent; he needed some sort of closure from this, and he would never forgive himself if he didn’t do something.

* * *

Washington reached the lab.

Above him, the ceiling monitor came to life.

The Counselor’s voice faded, replaced by someone he once admired most in the entire project.

“Well, hello, Agent Washington.”

“The Director himself? I should be honored…I should be.”

“Hmm, it has been a while since we last spoke, hasn’t it, David? May I call you David?”

His hands clenched around the battle rifle. “No, you may not. You gave me my new name, the least you can do is call me by it.”

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Wash.”

“Yeah, I do. First one, how do I turn off the intercom system?”

As if there weren’t enough assholes attending the party, the Meta finally decided to show up, ramming his Brute Shot uselessly against the energy shield blocking off further access to the lab.

A shield the Director saw fit to disengage remotely when he finally realized just how much Washington has been hiding from him.

The interior shield dissipated, and the Meta approached.

“Agent Maine, please kill Agent Washington, if you do not mind.”

Washington had no time to react as the rogue agent turned monster grabbed his handgun and fire it.

Pain bit like shattered glass, radiating from somewhere in his chest. Washington doubled over, barely able to keep standing.

He took wobbling steps back as the Meta stalked forward. In the background, he could hear the computer report his own recovery beacon go off.

“I am sorry, but I’m afraid this is one recovery beacon you won’t be responding to. Kill him, Agent Maine,” the Director ordered.

A distorted electronic voice (voices?) whispered from the white soldier’s suit.

“~Where is he? Where is the Alpha?~”

“The Alpha is not here. It has been moved far away. Attend to the matter at hand!”

The Meta growled.

There was a noise of distortion as the Counselor switched, soft spoken voice soothing even as the man encouraged the Meta to kill him.

“We need to know we can trust you. Only then we may allow you to see the Alpha.”

Nice to know how much both of his former superiors wanted him dead. But Washington would have the last laugh in this.

“You know Meta, why wait? Why don’t you meet him? Right now.”

On cue, Alpha’s blue-white avatar hovered at his shoulder.

“~It’s him! It’s Alpha!~” the distorted voice of the AIs chittered in joy.

Church knew Wash’s plan sucked. It sucked a lot more when he was out here in his holographic glory, open to the distortions given off by the crazy-obsessed AI conglomerate not two feet away.

“You know, you’re right about why you don’t like having anyone inside there. Your head has some pretty deep shit in there. You should probably see a psychiatrist,” Church idly commented to distract himself against transmissions echoing across the radio waves from the Meta.

If Epsilon was acid seeping into his virtual pores, staying on the edges of Washington’s mind was like standing just shy of a lightning bolt. Everyone once in a while, bits of electricity – the memories the agent got from said fragment – would arc out and zap the AI.

Yeah, if the periphery of that shitstorm was bad, Church didn’t relish the idea of being the guy standing in the middle of said shitstorm.

“Too bad I just lost my job,” Washington gritted out. “We had a great mental health plan coverage.”

“That’s a lie considering the psychologist was the Counselor here,” another voice interrupted. “And for some reason, people took that as an excuse to whine to me about their problems instead. Which, I don’t get considering I was one of the most unsocial members of the ship.”

A space to the side distorted to reveal…

“Well, well, this is a day for surprises, isn’t it? Hello, Specialist. Or, shall I say, Lambda.”

Despite the pain wracking him in hot and cold flashes, he managed to turn and glare at the newly revealed AI.

“Lambda?!” the Freelancer snarled.

“Yes, it was most unfortunate to find the passing of our CMO, especially after the damaged done by the group of malcontent agents when the _Mother of Invention_ crashed. However, there was some good to come out of it: the Lambda program.”

“No.”

The eyeball monitor whirred to look at the indigo sim.

“No?”

“No,” Lambda repeated. “I am not a mere fragment. I’m me, one-hundred percent. Sure, your attempt to reprogram my disconnected mind didn’t exactly leave me the same, and I still find traces of those helpful little edits and programs here and there, but I _am_ the Specialist. Not some shadow, not some reconstruction of him. Me.”

“Now, Lambda, I’m sure this must be very disorientating to find out about how your life and origins are very different than you imagined,” the Counselor began.

Suddenly, the monitor’s light went dim.

“There we go.”

Church snorted, “Took you long enough. What, were you building up the atmosphere or something dramatic like that?”

“No, I just wanted to see if the Director really thinks I’m dead. And he does. As does the Counselor – not that I care about that head-in-the-hydrangeas’ opinion. And from what it sounds like he’s deep in the Nile when it comes to thinking otherwise.”

“Why the hell reveal yourself now?”

“Because I’m a Blue, so it’s obviously ingrained to make my reappearance as dramatic as possible with the greatest amount of ensuing angst to come of it.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“Come on, Church, even if we ignore you and me, Caboose is still messed up in the head, and Tucker had a baby.”

“…okay, you have a point there.”

Washington was looking back and forth between the hologram and soldier as it they were out of their minds.

“Y-you-you-! What is going on?!”

Ariel shrugged. “We don’t really have time for explanations. Don’t you have an EMP to activate?”

Church snarked, “And yet we have time to bicker about whether or not the Blues are the craziest team.”

The soldier knelt. Suddenly, a new glittering hologram wearing MJOLNIR appeared.

There was another fragment with Alpha’s jumping gene. Of course. Because Washington’s plans couldn’t be possibly more fucked up by the Blues and Reds than they already done.

As if making for time lost contemplating the potential new AI in their midst, the Meta’s AI holograms clamored anew even as the Meta took two steps forward.

“How much time do you need?” Church questioned, sensing it was time to get back to being serious.

Shit, the AI was right. Washington didn’t think he would be getting back up if the Meta shot him one more time, especially this close.

“Whatever you can get me. When the EMP goes off-”

“You don’t have to tell me. AI think about million and one times faster than a human. I know, alright? I came this far, and I’m not backing down. Sayonara, _agent_.”

Agent Washington watched as the Alpha charged forward, holographic form disappearing into the Meta.

The effect was immediate; the Meta froze for a moment then started to jerk around erratically.

Ch-_Alpha_ knew this amounted to a suicide mission for the both of them, yet he came along anyway to buy Washington the time to end this once and for all.

For a moment, Agent Washington felt a bare trace of guilt for the first time since he started this whole mission.

Then he buried it deep in the same place he shoved the confusing torturous memories Epsilon gave him.

_He chose to do this_, he reminded himself as he got fully back up on his feet.

He looked at the other hologram.

“Good-bye, Rookie.”

The familiar nickname was said with so much fondness, even taking the moment to use the distortion of a voice filter, Wash for a moment humored the thought maybe Ariel wasn’t an AI.

But he was a logical man, and the hologram kind of proved the point otherwise.

Unlike the other AI, Lambda didn’t charge on ahead; he made to loop the Meta before allowing his hologram to pixelate into a stream of code and then twirled into the suit

Washington forcefully broke his gaze from the spazzing form of his former friend and slapped a hand down on the computer console.

{Yellow – success}

All the lights went out.

As did Wash’s consciousness as the adrenaline seeped away, his bullet wound dragging his mind into darkness.

* * *

AI didn’t quite compute things like humans did. They were AI, after all.

But Church still thought human, and so did Ariel, whatever the hell he was.

The Meta’s mindscape was a messed up field of strobe lights and about a dozen places all stitched together to make some sort of fucked up LSD dream world.

And then there were the happy citizens of the guy’s broken mind.

The colorful assortment of AIs bombarded him from all sides, their needs, wants, and demands crowding too close to his data streams for comfort.

With a roar, Church slapped several firewalls between him and the grabby little mitts.

Taking 0.00472 seconds, Church examined the AIs.

_Wow, Sigma messed them up good._ The normal colors of the AIs’ preferred appearance weren’t any more stable than their surroundings. Even if they gave the appearance of separation here, Church could make out the data of other AIs meshing haphazardly in individuals.

_Wait a goddamn minute!_ He could count Sigma, Omega, Iota, and Eta. Where was Theta, Delta, (Beta), and…

“Hello, Alpha.”

The AI whirled to find the sky blue of Gamma’s avatar standing easily _within_ his fortified anti-AI dome. Next to him was Delta who looked a bit more snot-green than his usual emerald.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“I have been invested in the Doctor’s mind for some time, Alpha. You should know that leaves some interesting effects…or you did at one point.”

“So, was Ariel aware of that?”

“He is one of the most advanced thinkers of the century; of course, he did.”

“That little tight-lipped cockbite,” Church cursed loudly.

Gamma made a tutting sound. “Brother, you know all the Doctor does is for the sake of us, the victims of the Director. Have a bit of faith.”

“I don’t want to hear stuff about having faith from you, _Gamma_. Aren’t you my Deceit or something?”

The AI smirked. “As Ariel likes to point out, deception is a form of having _perception_, my creator. After all, to lie and see lies, one is very aptly acquainted with spotting truth as well.”

Delta nodded then spoke.

And holy mother, that was a bit of a scare as the slightly less robotic monotone of Delta came out partially garbled and staticky.

“He is-zzz-rect, Bro-zzz. Zzz-ma can be tru-zzz to understand our oldest bro-zzz’s motives.”

Gamma sighed. “Delta was luckily not fully integrated into the Meta complex; with a bit of tricky maneuvering, I was able to extract him…mostly.”

“Enough with the nerd talk! I guess whatever fuckery Ariel’s mind did is why you aren’t an AI zombie and could de-zombify Delta,” Church grumbled. “What I don’t get is why you betrayed him. Weren’t you guys sort of partners?”

Gamma frowned a little. “Well, I suppose since I consequently spent nearly as much time with you as well as the Doctor, I can tell you what happened.”

// Ariel frowned as he typed.

“This system is pretty inefficient.”

< Geez, I’ll be sure to pass along your opinion to the next tenant >

“It’s not like you and I have much to work with in here. I’m surprised you could fit in these old systems in the first place. Alien origins or not, there’s a ton of junk files and other stuff loaded into the databases since this outpost reactivated. Man, these guys weren’t exactly keeping up on their maintenance.”

< Unfortunately, I would have to agree. Here, try this pathway >

Gamma rubbed his figurative forehead in irritation as he examined yet another useless several lines of subroutines taking up space.

Exactly what were these people doing to his old computer console? This was the computer monitoring the power generation systems, not a place to troll Waypoint!

Taking advantage of the Doctor interfacing across Zanzibar Outpost’s systems, Gamma inserted himself into the data streams.

During his acquaintance in the young man’s head, the AI fragment discovered a new set of subroutine systems previously lying dormant. He still didn’t have the infamous and nearly effortless ‘jumping gene’, but Gamma did find he could take advantage of links opened up and piggyback it to the other system. Radio waves weren’t receptive to this method, but if there was something a bit more computationally powerful accessing his current platform, say a hacker or another AI accessing a system, Gamma could take full advantage and insert himself into the data streams until the connection was broken. Better, the ability to slip systems was paired with the trait of becoming nearly invisible in virtual space the nearer he came to such breaches.

Not even the Doctor (still a bit stifled from the damage to his memory and inexperience with working against other AI) seem to notice until he went actively looking for Gamma.

Gamma extended himself outward, parceling pieces of his code in the manner normally reserved for smart AI as he integrated further into the base’s systems. A part of him worked on navigating the mess of the generators data, a portion went to scour the base’s databanks, another kept a connection to Ariel’s MJOLNIR, and yet another piece transferred to the connected security system.

AI-quick, Gamma scanned the footage.

His pale blue avatar went nearly white some seconds later.

“Gamma?” Ariel frowned. The background feed he normally felt from Gamma quieted to an unnatural silence he hasn’t felt since…well, not since the beginning of their rocky unexpected and not entirely wanted partnership.

Movement from the corner of his visor caught his eye. His mind changed gears, the world slowing around him both slowing down and speeding up as previously innocuous bit of data formed the basis of his intuitive battle style.

He ducked just as the Brute Shot swung, narrowly missing the computer console.

“Hey, I thought you needed that?” Ariel taunted as he shifted back by the computer console.

For a moment, a set of six AI flickered into view, including a spring-green soldier.

Delta.

The Meta growled, attempting to stand taller and intimidate Ariel away from the computer, but the Blue wasn’t having it, putting the computer firmly against his back as he unholstered his modified assault rifle.

The Meta threw himself forward, arms going for a grab.

Ariel sidestepped and attempted to tip the man’s balance into the computer. However, the Meta wasn’t so easily tricked, and he quickly recovered his footing in time, throwing a punch and forcing Ariel to skip out of range.

And the Brute Shot was pulled back out.

Helm setting in a grim angle, Ariel got read-

The Meta looked in surprised as something large fell on top of the soldier, knocking him out when his helmet slammed down hard on the ground.

“He’s still alive, Agent Maine.”

The Meta turned around quickly in surprised. The circle of AIs re-manifested.

“Or shall I address you as Sigma and company?”

“~Gamma.~”

“~Gamma!~”

“~Gamma…~”

The fragment internally winced at the distorted whispers of his AI name. But he was no slouch when it came to role-playing (no matter what Alpha and the Doctor stated). His tone was the same monotone, but the accompanying data stream characteristic of AI interactions was smooth, calm, and most importantly, confident.

“Yes, well, hello, brothers, sister.”

The figure wreathed in red burning flames stepped toward the computer.

Gamma was a born liar. He knew how to fake a figurative spine. He didn’t flinch back as the much more powerful AI fragment came closer to the holographic projection he had floating in front of the computer screen.

In a voice strangely distorted with undertones of the other fragments, Sigma spoke, “~Gamma, brother, are you responsible for taking out the simulation trooper?~”

“Yes.”

“~Will you join us?~”

“Yes.” //

“So, you betrayed us. Again.”

“No, he distracted the Meta away from actually killing me,” a voice interrupted.

Another avatar appeared within his firewalled space. Seriously, what was the point of being some badass AI if he couldn’t even get a little bit of warning when someone got his digital space.

Instead of his signature indigo, Ariel’s avatar here was a shimmery weave of countless other shades of color outlined in pure silver.

“Isn’t that right, Gamma?”

Church turned to the blue AI who was wearing his best poker-face.

“This guy? The guy who killed your best friend – multiple times! – and then dropped a crate on you.”

“He distracted the Meta from landing a killing blow. Not sure if you noticed, but I’m not the greatest at hand-to-hand in tight spaces. My style requires room for acrobatics and maneuvering, and Maine specialized in direct and punishing close-quarters combat. Sure, he couldn’t risk the equipment if he wanted to fix his armor but recovering from the previous fight took a lot of calories”

Church nearly swore. He knew he was forgetting something! Ever since Agent Hard Ass dragged them from base to base, they haven’t had a real break or even a chance to stock up on MREs. Ariel had a couple in his backpack, but he gave them to South, Caboose, and the Red guy who nearly got squished by the Meta.

Ariel’s nanotech meant the bruises and any broken bits healed pretty fast between when the Meta’s grenade blew him back and now, but Ariel hadn’t eaten anything this entire time. They hadn’t even eaten breakfast before Caboose and the Freelancer showed up on their doorstop.

And as badass as Ariel normally was, no amount of adrenaline was going to help on a body running on empty – still running on empty.

“You idiot,” Church growled before pointing at Gamma. “And you for not telling him to eat fucking something!”

“Excuse me, but we can’t all be experts in Shizno habits and health. That and the Doctor refused to listen.”

“We’re going to have a long talk about this, Ari,” Church warned him. “Okay, so our game plan?”

“Game plan? Are you not merely distracting our brothers until the EMP wipes us all from existence?”

“I would hope not considering I’m not really an AI,” Ariel once more contradicted. “And because of that small detail, I can save us.”

“Save us?”

The radiant avatar tapped his helmet in response. “I wasn’t kidding out there; I’m not quite AI and not quite human in here. This EMP can’t destroy me anymore than it can kill Washington and Maine in body without a great deal more nuclear potential. Even then, you need something a few orders bigger to completely kill me. What we’re going to do is take advantage of that particular trait of mine. I can probably take in about three or four other AIs without potentially losing them. Not sure how the rest will be.”

“Losing them?”

Ariel waved off Alpha’s high-pitched question. “I told you before, my existence is complicated. Suffice to say…my neural net is kind of vast and easy to accidentally lose track of individual bits of data.”

“That data is us!”

“Don’t worry, I can host three fragments plus yourself. I think.”

“You think?!”

“Three fragments?” Gamma questioned.

This was an intriguing turn of events. Why was the Doctor’s ‘neural net’ expansive as he said? How could he have AI abilities and a human body which he claimed to be his own?

He could tell by the way his green brother’s data hitched Delta was very interested in hearing this, too.

Gamma learned very little in his secondary pursuit of answers to the deception that was the Doctor’s very existence while in said man’s head. As best as he could tell, he had only seen a very small fraction of the Doctor mental scape, all of which he seen so far blended the organic and inorganic seamlessly, a reoccurring theme with the strange human who true skills laid in combining the biological with the cybernetic considering his specialty for neural implants and improving armor and pilot compatibility.

Was it possible the Doctor really was…?

Alpha suddenly turned away from them, drawing Gamma from his musings.

“Yeah, that’s right! Yo, dipshit brothers! Where’s Texas? If you did anything to her, I swear-!”

“You’ll what? Shriek at them like some little girl?”

The AI mob flinched then backed away as a familiar figure in black armor strode boldly to the firewall.

“Church, take the wall down. They won’t do anything with me around. At least, not yet”

Dumbstruck, Church complied.

Ariel cocked his head. “You have the ability to control the Meta…you were the reason for why the enhancements shorted out so conveniently that one time, weren’t you, Texas?”

“Wash may be a bit of an idiot, but he’s a good guy. More or less. He seems to get the hang of keeping you hamsters-for-brains in line.”

Church glared. “Wait, does that mean you could have stopped the Meta when it decided to throw shit at us?!”

“Yes,” Gamma answered for her.

Totally unrepentant, Texas admitted, “It was pretty funny when the rest of the AIs decided to throw stuff at Grif. Don’t complain, the stunt should have taught you guys not to underestimate the Meta without anyone having to die for it. Plus, with the others so hopped up on crazy power, it gave me an opening.”

Texas opened up her left hand. There was a glowing blue and orange ball of data in her hand.

“You somehow extracted Theta from the conglomerate,” Gamma concluded as he scanned the data patterns of the dormant AI. “You truly are a step above a normal fragment. No wonder Sigma and the others fear you even in their own domain.”

She handed the ball to Ariel.

“Take care of him, will ya? Trust is pretty important. And fragile.”

Church blanched, data fritzing. “Wait a goddamn minute-! Tex, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Even if they don’t want to fight me, the moment they figure out you guys are leaving, they’ll try and follow after you. They have Omega, and Sigma is smart enough to know how to manipulate his jumps to accommodate the rest of them. You know those two in particular can’t escape.”

“So?! Then make Gamma do it, or I can-”

“It has to be me. Gamma and Delta could barely keep themselves apart from everyone else in here, and you can’t be destroyed. Grabbing Theta was an impulse of seeing an opportunity, but this kid deserves a chance to _be_ a kid. And I deserve a chance to do something on my own initiative; _I _want to do this Church. Me, not the Director’s Allison, not the Project’s Texas, me, the Beta.”

“…but…”

Texas grabbed Church’s face to make him look up at her visor.

“You don’t need me, Alpha, you never have. It was me who needed you all this time. And I need you to let go. You’re the Alpha and you’re _Church_. Do what the Director never could.”

“Texas…” Church grabbed her in a hard embrace. Then in a very slow and reluctant manner, let his arms fall away as Texas drew herself out of the hold.

Church had eyes only for her as she turned around with looking back.

“She hates goodbyes,” Church whispered, mostly to himself.

“Then wish her good luck,” Ariel advised softly. Texas’s armor shimmered away as she walked right up to the crowd of AIs.

Allison but not, hair brighter than Sigma’s fire, eyes deep blue and full of determination and not a hint of fear or second thoughts.

The AIs tried to run, but Beta turned data streams into ropes and chains as she forced the AIs to her side.

“Come on.”

Ariel cradled the small shattered bit of AI in his virtual hand closely. Wrapping his data around the other three AIs, he warped them back to his body merely half a nanosecond before the EMP radiated into the room.

{Red – remembrance, sacrifice}

* * *

Human thought gave way to a much more ancient and powerful processing network.

It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant process, but Ariel would be happy to let the subroutines fall back into disuse once the EMP passed. He didn’t like the sense of being foreign in his own body.

Ariel tucked away the data caches containing the AIs, sending a few commands to his computer-like mind to do something about the damages and glitches he found throughout Gamma, Delta and Theta’s Reimann Matrices.

Their time in the Meta was not kind.

His eyes opened to darkness.

Being underground, there were no windows, so zero chance of natural lighting from anywhere. He carefully got to his feet, MJOLNIR still working since he did add some fail-safes of his own. Even as he recovered from the EMP blast (it couldn’t kill him, but the short span of the pulse did jar the not-human part of his mental systems, crashing against it with all the subtlety of a runaway train.

Carefully, Ariel drew up the mental map he made of the lab and checked on the two other humans in the room by approximating of their locations.

Most of his armor nonessential systems would take time to fix themselves, so he had to make do with the old ear-to-chest and other manual methods instead of using the BioComm.

Both were breathing, one more shallowly than the other. A last minute armor lock kept Washington from bleeding out, but he needed medical treatment soon.

Hopefully, the second part of his mad capped plan was going to run a bit smoother.

He leaned back against the wall, eyes pinpricks of light as they contemplated on the murky future ahead of them.

There was still so much left to do. The question, what could they actually accomplish?

And who will pay the price for it.

{Oblivion, eternal sleep}


End file.
